The War of Shadows
by o Mischief Managed
Summary: Sequel to Blood and Sand. Erebos has risen, and war has descended on the world like a storm cloud. With the gods trapped in an enchanted sleep, the earth's liberation lies on the shoulders of their demigod children. But Percy soon learns that no matter how hard he fights the darkness, every light casts a shadow. And the closer you get to the light, the darker that shadow becomes.
1. I Percy

**I'M BAAAAAACK! Happy February, gang! How was everybody's holiday season? Good? Ready for this story finally? Awesome! I know it's been a bit, but like I said, I needed to take a break to work on Fire at Will. And now that I've made some strides on that, it's time I switch my focus back to this series! Woo-hoo!**

**So this chapter will look extremely familiar to those of you who've already read Blood and Sand (which, might I add, you MUST do before reading this, otherwise you'll be scratching the hair from your head). I haven't changed anything, so you can either re-read it or skip it and wait for the next chapter, whatever you want to do.**

**I can't remember if I pointed this out at the end of Blood and Sand, but War of Shadows is gonna be a considerable bit darker than its predecessor (I mean, the bad guy is the _king of darkness_. I suppose that should go without saying). It's not gonna be a huge, humor-free angst fest by any means. I just want you all to be prepared for some darker moments and some major focus on dark-vs-light and all that fun stuff. It's gonna be a bumpy ride, but one I can't wait to get started on.**

**Ready to step on my crazy train again, gang? It's gonna be another nice long, cross-country drive—but by no means relaxing. ALL ABOARD—HEEEEEERE WE GO!**

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**I  
PERCY**

For the first time in years, Percy dreamed of the beach.

And not just any beach, but his favorite beach at Montauk, where he and his mother used to spend weekends when he was a kid. He remembered long, blissful afternoons building sandcastles, racing through the tide, or playing in the cold, salty ocean, not a care in the world except maybe tripping on a rock or stepping on a crab. He didn't know at the time that those simple days would end up the happiest of his life.

But now, as he stood on the sand and looked out over the water, his favorite beach looked nothing like it used to. There was no sound, no movement—no life. The usual assortment of tourists was nowhere to be seen. The air and ocean were perfectly still—almost like a painting, but without the friendly charm. In real time, the absolute silence was ominous. There was something empty about the way the sand sat heavily on the beach, no wind to rustle it about, and the way the water lay dead and cold and soulless.

The sky above was dark and devoid of stars, but that much wasn't new. For over a month now, the world had been deadlocked in a permanent midnight, black and lightless as though covered in a shadowy blanket. Percy had gotten used to seeing in the dark, but that didn't mean he didn't miss the light. He'd almost forgotten what the sun looked like after so many days without it.

But that was why they fought—so that one day the clouds would clear and daylight would shine again. The prophecy predicted that the Shadow War, as they'd come to call it, wouldn't last forever. Though, if truth be told, it wasn't exactly specific about time, either. For all he knew, the war could go on for lifetimes.

Percy looked out to his left, where he could just barely see the top of the Montauk Point Lighthouse in the distance. Its beacon swept lazily across the still ocean surface, as if searching desperately for some form of life. But there was nothing to find. As a kid, he had always been awed by the lighthouse—by the idea of a single building with one great light shining bright enough to guide lost sailors back to shore. But now, watching it send its signal over empty air and quiet seas, yearning for a sign of hope, it struck him as sad. It reminded him of himself and his friends—lost and alone and trying their hardest to shine brightly in a world so dark and empty. And what would happen when that last light went out—when the darkness became complete? Was there even any hope left at all?

"If you think like that, then he's already won."

Percy jumped so badly he nearly fell over onto the sand. He spun around and stared in shock at the man standing behind him, eyes widening and heart skipping at least three beats. "_Dad?_"

Poseidon smiled, though Percy noticed that there was sadness in his eyes. "Hello, Percy," he said quietly.

"What are you—?" Percy stammered, thrown off balance by the sudden appearance of the Sea God. "I-I mean, how did you—? Why are you _here?_" He fixed his father with an incredulous stare. The god was dressed in his usual beach attire, like he'd been caught mid-vacation at Montauk rather than in the dream of his demigod son in the middle of a magical war.

"I can't drop in on my favorite son's dreams?" Poseidon asked innocently.

Percy glared at him. "You know what I mean," he insisted, anger starting to rise. "Where in Hades have you guys _been?_ We haven't heard from a single god since the start of the war—I know you don't like to interfere, but this is taking it a step too far, don't you think?"

A pained look crossed the god's face and he released a heavy sigh, like he'd just gotten home from a long, trying day at work. "Percy, you need to understand," he said carefully. "As soon as I heard what had happened, I wanted to help. But you know how the council is. The decision came too late. By the time it was agreed upon, Nyx had already cast her spell and freed her brother."

"But that was weeks ago!" Percy pointed out defiantly. He knew it wasn't _exactly_ a smart move, yelling at a god. But at the moment, he didn't _exactly_ care. "What have you been doing since then, sitting on your thrones telling jokes?"

Poseidon gave a humorless smile. "You're half-right," he admitted, causing his son to narrow his eyes in disbelief. "Listen, we don't have much time before he realizes I've reached out to you. Percy… the other gods and I need your help."

"What?" Percy said, his anger starting to ebb away like a receding tide. "What do you mean?"

"After Nyx accomplished her task on the night of the lunar eclipse, the first thing she made sure to do was remove us from the equation," the god explained, his voice low and urgent. "She trapped us all in a deep sleep, binding us on Mount Olympus."

"You're asleep?" Percy repeated with a frown. "But… how?"

"My guess is she called upon one of her children," Poseidon replied. "The only being capable of something like this."

Realization struck Percy and his throat tightened uncomfortably. A voice repeated in his head, bringing back a memory from not long ago: _'If my father wanted to, he could put the gods themselves to slumber.' _"Hypnos," he said aloud.

"Yes."

"But… I've met Hypnos," Percy argued, thinking back to their stay last month at the Cloud Nine Hotel—a high-class, five-star hotel owned and managed by the god of sleep and his three sons, the Dream Brothers. "He didn't… Well, he wasn't exactly first in line to be Nyx's campaign manager."

"I don't believe he helped her of his own will," Poseidon agreed, touching his chin and frowning thoughtfully. "The Queen of Night has power over her immortal children. It's possible she forced Hypnos to put us to sleep."

"So… what do you want us to do?" Percy asked.

"Someone must find Hypnos and free him so he can lift his spell," the Sea God said. "And before you ask, no, I don't know where Nyx is keeping him. Neither of them is on Olympus. She must be hiding somewhere she believes is safe." Suddenly his eyes sharpened and he shot a glance over his shoulder at something Percy couldn't see. "I'm afraid that's all the information I can give you," he said, tension in his voice. "Our time is up."

"Wait a minute," Percy said quickly, still not completely understanding what he had to do. "How are we supposed to find them? Isn't there any other way to wake you guys up?"

Poseidon shook his head, looking regretful. "No one but Hypnos himself has power like this over sleep. I'm sorry to do this to you, son. I know you and your friends have been through a lot, and what I'm asking is no easy task. But if we have any hope of winning this war, the god of sleep must be freed." He smiled, but again Percy could clearly see the painful sadness in those sea-green eyes that perfectly mirrored his own. "Good luck, Percy. Remember that you—"

All of a sudden, a dark shadow—darker even than the lightless sky—passed over him, cutting off his voice. "Wait!" Percy yelled, running forward and reaching toward the darkness. "Dad! Hold on! I still don't—" He skidded to a halt as the shadow shifted and formed a humanoid shape. A second later, standing before him on the beach was a tall man with pale skin and sleek, finely-gelled black hair that just brushed his shoulders. He was dressed in a crisp, all-black tuxedo that was impossibly clean and devoid of even the slightest wrinkle, complete with dark gloves and shoes so shiny they looked like black glass. The onyx buttons on his double-breasted tailcoat were round and covered in pointed, inch-long spikes, just in case he wanted to hug and stab someone at the same time. His hands rested on the ornate handle of a walking cane that looked to be made of volcanic glass. He could have been just your average billionaire out for a stroll in the nonexistent moonlight, except for the sharp, obsidian crown atop his head and the smoking, shadowy voids where his eyes should have been.

"The son of the Storm-bringer," he said with a cruel smile, causing Percy to unwillingly remember a certain line of their most recent prophecy. "We meet at last." The man's voice was a low whisper, like wind on a quiet night, and caused the hairs on the back of Percy's neck to stand on end. He staggered backward, suddenly feeling trapped and lost, like his will to fight had been swept away.

"Erebos," he said, knowing without a doubt that he was looking at the King of Darkness himself.

"I believe thanks are in order," Erebos said, walking slowly forward across the beach. With each step he took, the sand beneath his feet turned black like burned embers. "Without you, I would still be trapped in my Underworld prison. I suppose one could say all this," he spread his hands and gestured to the shadowy darkness around them, then pointed the end of his cane toward Percy and smirked, "is because of you."

Percy knew that wasn't true. He'd replayed the night of the eclipse over and over in his head for weeks. Nyx had been about to kill Jason Grace. Percy had shoved him out of the way at the last second, which had resulted in his taking the blade instead. Fueled by adrenaline, he hadn't even realized he'd been cut until they'd escaped the Queen of Night, thinking they'd won. It was only after that that he'd understood that Nyx had been able to use his blood to raise her brother, Erebos. He'd felt guilty at first, but he'd come to terms with what had happened. After all, if he'd done nothing, Nyx would have killed Jason, which would have been exponentially worse.

Even so, hearing Erebos tell him everything was his fault actually made him start to believe it. Was there any other way he could have saved Jason that didn't end in his getting hurt instead? Could he have done a better job of stalling Nyx long enough for the eclipse to end? And what about New Rome—all the people who'd been sacrificed to the earth? When Percy had gotten himself taken in by the Fury Alecto in order to find Jason, couldn't there have been another way to escape that underground prison and help his friends? Could all of that pain have been avoided if only he was stronger and more careful?

_No_, his rational side (which oftentimes sounded a lot like his girlfriend, Annabeth) interrupted. _Snap out of it! It's his aura—it's messing with your head. You can't lose hope, that's exactly what he wants._

Percy shook his head and stepped backward away from the god, who fixed him with an amused smile. "Know this, Percy Jackson," Erebos said in his calm, whispering voice, shadows seeming to seep from his empty eye sockets. "You may think yourself safe and protected. But this is a ruse. Darkness has a way of creeping into even the brightest places, sneaking unnoticed until someone turns off the light."

He lowered his head toward the ground, and Percy glanced down to see that the darkness beneath the god was spreading, turning the sand all around him to ash. Percy stumbled backward as the blackness stretched toward him, but it was too fast. The sand beneath his feet turned hard and dead, burned like tiny coals, and he felt a strong, invisible force grabbing at his ankles as he began to sink into the shadowy ground. He cried out in surprise and struggled to free himself, but like quicksand, the ashes only pulled him down faster.

"We will meet again," Erebos said, watching with satisfaction as the sand reached Percy's chest and he continued to sink. "Remember this: Without darkness, there can be no light. But without light, there is only darkness. My shadow will consume all." He spread his hands and smiled, and the image of his dark, empty eyes burned into Percy's mind before the scorched sand closed over his head.

Then he woke to the sound of screams.

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**Yay cliffhangers! As you all know by now, I absolutely love them. Expect quite a few in chapters to come, haha.**

**So all kidding aside, I should have Chapter 2 up tomorrow since this first one is nothing new. I'm sticking with the same 4-narrator cycled structure with three chapters per character, though as you can already see I'm switching up the characters. Can't wait to delve into a few more new ones!**

**So throw me a review if you feel so inclined to let me know you're with me, and look for the update this time tomorrow! Later days!**

**-oMM**


	2. II Percy

**Hi again! I'm back, as promised, since the last chapter was one you already read. Don't expect all my updates to be this fast though, haha. I don't like to take too long, but two days in a row is highly uncommon.**

**This chapter's a lot of fun, I think. A good gateway to what's going on nowadays with the gang. It was really fun to write, too. You'll see :)**

**Thanks to everybody that reviewed/followed the first chapter! Ready for something new? Enjoy!**

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**II  
PERCY**

Waking to a world just as dark as sleep was highly disorienting, and if it wasn't for the angry voice screaming in Percy's ear it would have taken him a considerably longer time to regain his bearings.

"Wake _up_, Seaweed Brain! Gods, you sleep like a freaking rock!"

"Annabeth?" he recognized the voice, blinking rapidly to try and clear the sleep from his eyes. The image of Erebos and his dark, hollow eyes was still burned into his mind, threatening to drag him back into oblivion. But around him he could hear a girl screaming and a vicious growling, and those sounds were hardly ever a prelude to something fun. He shook his head and his eyesight finally focused on his girlfriend kneeling over him on the forest floor, her knife in her hand and her expression wild.

"Ugh, _finally!_" she said, sounding exasperated. "I was about ready to start smacking you. Get up, we've got trouble!" She stood and dashed away, seeming to run in time with the music.

_Wait… Music?_ Confused, Percy sat up and looked toward where Annabeth had gone, feeling his stomach leap into his throat as he took in the view of their campsite—or, what used to be their campsite. Now it was the wooded hunting ground for a pack of horse-sized hellhounds.

With a yelp, Percy jumped to his feet, digging a hand in his pocket and fumbling for his shape-shifting ballpoint pen. He pulled it out and yanked the cap free, feeling the familiar blade of his sword, Riptide, extend to full length in his hand, before rushing toward the nearest monster. It seemed to notice him at the last second and its lip curled back in a snarl as it leaned back on its haunches and leapt into the air. Percy skidded to a halt and dove to the side to avoid being skewered by the six-inch claws aimed at his chest. He rolled on the ground and came up in a crouch as the hound whipped toward him with a growl. Immediately it bounded forward and aimed a fast, powerful swipe of its paw. Percy swung his blade and deflected the blow, before spinning around and landing a slice across one of the hound's front legs. It howled and lunged forward, opening its jaws wide, and once again Percy threw himself to the side just in time for its teeth to snap closed around empty air. As he stepped backward and regained his footing, the hellhound turned to face him, growling as if to say, _Stop squirming! I'm hungry!_ Then it pounced again, but this time, rather than dodge around it, Percy ducked low and dove forward, twisting on the ground and dragging his sword along the hellhound's belly. With a loud whine, it dissolved into dust—dust that fell in an extremely gross and uncomfortable blanket right on top of him.

Coughing and brushing monster bits from his face, he climbed to his feet and spun around, colliding instantly with something hard and knocking himself and the other object to the ground. The music he'd heard earlier came to an abrupt halt and he rolled over to come face to face with Grover, who was rubbing his nose with a pained expression.

"Good, you're awake," he said, shouting over the commotion around them. "Why are you covered in—?"

"Don't ask," Percy interrupted, helping his friend to his feet and trying to brush more hellhound-dust from his clothes. "Where are Annabeth and the girls?" he asked, noticing that the others (including the remainder of the hound pack) had disappeared.

"Over there." Grover jerked a hand over his shoulder. "I was keeping the girls hidden so they wouldn't—" Suddenly he broke off, his eyes widening. "My pipes," he said frantically, dropping to his knees and running his hands along the grassy forest floor. "Where are my pipes?"

"Here," Percy said, leaning down and picking them up while simultaneously realizing that they must have been the source of the music he'd heard. As Grover took them, a shrill scream pierced the air and both boys cringed.

"Uh-oh," Grover muttered.

"Come on!" Percy sprinted past Grover and through a line of trees until he found the source of the scream—Lydia, one of the two young demigod sisters that Percy, Grover, and Annabeth had been dispatched to escort to Camp Half-Blood, was standing alone with her back against a tree and a snarling hellhound leaning back to pounce at her.

"Lydia, get down!" Percy yelled, running toward her without hesitation. Her wide, fearful eyes turned toward him before she followed his order, ducking to a crouch and throwing her hands over her head. The hellhound tensed and leapt into the air and at the last second Percy threw himself between the monster and the girl, jabbing forward with Riptide and driving the blade between the hound's open jaws. Its teeth scraped his forearm just before the beast turned to dust with an angry howl.

He'd barely lowered his sword before Lydia's small arms threw themselves around his waist and he stumbled forward, surprised that a ten-year-old girl could have so much force. "You saved me!" she said, squeezing him in an uncomfortable, bone-crushing hug.

"Uh… It was nothing," Percy said awkwardly, trying to twist around and pry her arms away from him. "Look, I've… gotta go find Annabeth and your sister. Why don't you stay here with Grover until we get back?" She finally let go and nodded vigorously, the bright smile on her face seeming strangely uncharacteristic for a girl who was almost just mauled by a hellhound. Percy exchanged a glance and a nod with Grover before turning and dashing off through the trees again, heading toward the sounds of fighting not far away.

Seeing movement through the darkness a few yards away, he shoved his way through a thick brush of bushes and skidded to a halt between two trees. In the small clearing beyond them, Annabeth was squaring off against three hellhounds while a fourth stalked a slow, threatening circle around Lydia's twelve-year-old sister, Tyler. Annabeth may have been in more danger, but she was also a highly experienced fighter and would probably scold Percy if he tried to help her before the younger girl. So seeing as he wanted to avoid his girlfriend's wrath wherever possible, he sprinted toward Tyler after only a brief moment of hesitation.

When the hound reared back onto its two hind legs and growled, ready to tackle the young girl in front of it, Percy felt a jolt as he realized he wouldn't make it over there in time. Gritting his teeth, he dug his feet into the ground and yelled, "Tyler, duck!" She turned back to face him and stumbled, falling to a sitting position on the ground. _That'll work,_ he thought with a half-shrug. Then he pulled his arm back and flung Riptide like a javelin as the hellhound dropped to all fours and darted forward, opening its jaws wide and aiming to sink its teeth into its prize. Tyler screamed and scooted backward, but before the giant dog reached her Percy's sword sliced across its nose. It fell back and swung its head to the side with a loud whine.

"Hey, Fido!" Percy called to the monster. "Why don't you pick on something your own size? Like, I don't know, a lawn mower." The hellhound turned toward him with a snarl, its earlier conquest forgotten. He felt a rush of triumph as it started past Tyler, but that quickly vanished when he realized that now a seven-foot-tall, two-thousand-pound monster was eyeing him up like a demigod sirloin and, as his sword had gone whizzing away and had yet to return to his pocket, he had no weapon. "Oops," he muttered, the adrenaline starting to freeze in his veins like ice. _Oh, well,_ he thought. _Only one thing to do._ Then he shouted, "How 'bout a nice game of fetch?" and turned and bolted through the trees to his left, hoping the hound would be angry enough—or dumb enough—to follow him.

As it turned out, it was, because he heard snarling mixed with the pounding of paws and the rough snapping of branches behind him not a second later. He weaved his way through the trees, not wanting to get too far away from Annabeth and the others but knowing he needed to buy himself time until Riptide reappeared in his pocket. He didn't exactly relish battling the hound's fangs and claws with only his bare hands.

After a minute or so, he shot a glance over his shoulder to see if the hellhound had gained on him, but of course he couldn't make it out through the complete darkness of the thick New Jersey forest. He faced forward with a scowl and realized he was roughly 0.5 seconds away from colliding headlong with the trunk of a tree. "Whoa!" he stammered in surprised, dragging his feet and veering off to the side. This, of course, caused him to trip over something—a root or a fallen log, it was difficult to tell in the dark—and lose his balance. He fell forward and landed on his shoulder, rolling a few feet into what felt like a small ditch.

With a groan, Percy sat up and shook his head, rubbing a sore bruise on the back of his shoulder. He climbed to his feet and turned toward the direction he thought he'd come from before it finally hit him where he was standing—he'd somehow stumbled into a shallow forest stream and was now ankle-deep in cool, trickling water. He hadn't noticed right away because, of course, the water swirled around him without dampening his clothes, just like it always did. He kicked a rock on the bed of the stream and smirked—he may not have had a sword, but at least now he had a weapon.

The snap of a stick caught his attention and he glanced up, waiting for the hellhound to make an appearance. His eyes studied the darkness for any sign of movement, but the monster must have been making an effort to remain still and quiet, because for a long minute nothing happened. Percy clucked his tongue in annoyance, wishing the thing would show itself, when finally a loud roar interrupted the silence as the hound leapt through the trees, claws and teeth aimed directly for its prey. Percy tensed and dropped to a crouch. He clenched both hands into fists and pulled them slowly upward, feeling a tightness in his gut as the water began to rise and twist into spires on either side of him. Then he thrust both hands toward the monster and just before it reached him the water swelled forward, tightening into swirling spikes. They impaled the hound in the chest between its two front legs and it howled shrilly before dissolving into dust, falling to the forest floor amid the few gallons of now-lifeless water.

Percy brushed his hands off and stepped out of the stream just as he finally felt the familiar weight of his ballpoint pen returning to his pocket. He reached in and pulled it out with a frown. "Great," he muttered. "_Now_ it comes back." Uncapping it, he ran off into the trees, following the sounds of fighting up ahead. Luckily, he hadn't led his hellhound far, and in a minute he was back in the small clearing.

Annabeth had evidently disposed of one of the remaining three hellhounds, dropping the opposition to two. Though the two monsters separate her from Percy, he could see a bloody gash on her arm and a pained glare on her face as she shielded Tyler from the snarling hounds, her knife held in her left hand. After only a short few seconds to survey the area, Percy surged toward them, figuring that now Annabeth wouldn't spurn his help.

He reached the hound on the left just as Annabeth used her blade to parry a vicious bite from the hound on the right. Her gaze flitted toward him as he sliced Riptide across the monster's back leg, causing it to stumble and growl. It turned toward him and he ducked a wild swing of its claws before stabbing it in the side. He was rewarded with yet another coating of black dust as a result.

Annabeth must have succeeded in wounding the last hellhound, because it had backed away and was growling more fiercely than ever. Percy ran toward it just as it prepared to pounce at Annabeth and Tyler. Tyler screamed and threw her hands over her head, and suddenly a mess of thick vines sprang out of the earth, flailing about wildly. Percy skidded to a halt and staggered, surprised, before one slammed him across the chest and sent him flying backward. As his back collided painfully with a tree, he heard a mournful whine from the hound which must have meant it had been hit as well. Then everything seemed to quiet all at once.

Dazed from the impact, Percy struggled to his feet and leaned back against the tree, rolling his shoulders. "You okay?" a voice asked, and he blinked hard to steady his vision before looking up to see Annabeth and Tyler stepping up to him.

"Fine," he answered his girlfriend, frowning down at her arm. "What about you?"

Annabeth shook her head and gave a half-smile. "I'm okay. It's not as bad as it looks."

Percy nodded and turned to Tyler, fixing her with a slightly incredulous stare. "Those vines," he said. "That… Was that you?"

Tyler bit her lip and glanced at the ground, shuffling her feet. "I don't know," she answered. "I think so." When she looked back up at him, there was guilt in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Percy," she said quietly. "I was scared. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Nah, it's fine," he insisted, standing up straight and waving a hand in an effort to allay her worry. "It was an accident. Besides, you took out that hellhound, didn't you? If I were you, I'd be feeling pretty awesome right now." He grinned and she glanced down again with a small smile, seemingly avoiding his eyes, and a light blush colored her face.

"So you've got something of an affinity for plants," Annabeth said thoughtfully, her eyebrows creasing in a slight frown as she tapped her chin. "You don't know your godly parent, but judging from that, I'd guess Demeter or Dionysus would be the most likely. Maybe even Hecate—her children tend to be capable of all kinds of different forms of magic." She sighed and shook her head, letting her hands drop to her sides. "I suppose we won't know until the gods decide to reopen contact with us. It sure would be nice to hear from them once in a while, what with everything that's been going on."

A cold chill snaked down Percy's spine as he suddenly remembered the dream he'd been woken up from—the dream in which his father had paid an unexpected visit. He would have to tell the others about it, but at the moment they had more important matters to focus on. "We should treat everybody who's hurt and get moving," he said aloud, shooting a glance back toward where he'd left Grover and Lydia. "You know, just on the off chance those hellhounds have some friends nearby."

Annabeth shrugged in agreement. "Stranger things have happened," she said grimly.

The trio headed back toward where they'd made camp and found Grover and Lydia safe and sound, along with all of their things. After distributing a bit of ambrosia to anyone who needed it, Percy, Annabeth, and Grover hefted their packs and did their best to remove any signs of their presence in the area.

"Do we have to keep going already?" Lydia asked, her voice a bit of a whine. "I'm _tired_."

"Sorry, Lydia," Annabeth said gently. "But we can't stick around any longer. You don't want another monster attack, do you?" The sisters exchanged skeptical glances, like they didn't quite believe that the frequency of supernatural run-ins could be that high. Boy, did they have a lot to learn.

"Hey, the sooner we leave, the sooner we get there, right?" Percy pointed out, trying for a different approach. "I promise, you can rest all you want when we get to Camp."

"Okay," Lydia said at once, her features brightening. Then, abruptly, she skipped over and grabbed Percy's left arm with both hands, saying with a grin, "But I'm walking with Percy!"

"Me too," Tyler added, suddenly appearing on his right and linking his other arm through hers before he could fully register what was happening.

Hearing Grover stifle an amused snort, Percy felt his ears redden. "Uh, actually…" he said uncertainly, a bit embarrassed at their sudden affection. He slid his arms from their grips and placed a hand on each girl's shoulder as he suggested, "Why don't you guys take point with Grover? I, uh… need to talk to Annabeth."

"Awww," they both complained in perfect unison.

"We'd feel way safer with you," Tyler said. "You killed all those monsters."

Lydia leaned close and whispered too loudly, "And he smells like the zoo."

"Hey!" Grover said indignantly, amusement apparently forgotten. "I heard that! I do _not_ smell like the zoo! I'll have you know other animals will hardly come near me because I smell too much like _you_ people." Percy shot Grover a wounded, pleading sort of look, and he sighed shortly in admission. "Alright, alright," he said. "Come on, girls. Let me show you guys some tracking magic while we walk—it's how I found out about you two in the first place."

"Really?" Lydia asked, her interest evidently piqued.

"Yeah," Annabeth spoke up, and Percy noticed she was standing beside them with her arms folded across her chest. "Grover's our best tracker. Without him, our camp would be half the size it is today."

Tyler and Lydia exchanged a glance, before turning and throwing wide, identical smiles at Percy, who grinned back somewhat awkwardly. Then, strangely, they both shot looks at Annabeth that could only be described as glares, before hurrying toward Grover and together leading the way out of their clearing.

Annabeth raised an eyebrow at the girls' backs as they walked away, talking excitedly. "I killed some of those hellhounds, too, you know," she said, and Percy wasn't sure if she was talking to him or to no one in particular. Either way, the look on her face told him he should probably keep quiet so as to avoid saying the wrong thing. "It's not like I _ask_ for credit, but a little bit of appreciation _would_ be nice. But no, they'd rather idolize _you_ just 'cause you're hot."

Percy blinked. "What?"

She glanced over and her hard expression softened into an amused and almost sympathetic smile. The look on his face must have been pretty funny, because she chuckled and said, "They've both got major crushes on you. You couldn't tell?"

He tried to mask the surprised embarrassment on his face, but judging by the slight twinkle in Annabeth's eyes, he'd failed miserably. So instead, he did what he did best and went for a sarcastic approach. "What," he said wryly, "don't tell me you're jealous."

Her eyebrows shot up. "You caught me," she said with a small smile, taking a step closer to him and bumping her shoulder against his arm. "But I'm prepared to fight them for you if I have to. So who should I be more afraid of—the ten-year-old or the twelve-year-old?"

"I don't know," he replied, setting a hand on her waist. "That power of Tyler's might give you a run for your money."

"I'll take that chance," she said with a light smirk, before twisting her free hand in the collar of his jacket and leaning up to touch her lips to his. A warm, electric sort of feeling snaked through him as he leaned into her and he probably could have stayed like that for hours. With everything going on lately, they two of them hadn't had much time alone together—not since the Shadow War had started. But after a few too-short seconds, Annabeth pulled back and said quietly, "We should catch up to the others."

"Aw, they can handle themselves," Percy argued. But when Annabeth shot him a pointed look, he sighed and conceded. "Alright, alright. Let's go."

As they started through the forest after the rest of their party, Annabeth asked in an amused voice, "So did you really need to talk to me, or were you just trying to get rid of the girls?"

Her tone was light, but the question brought back flashes from Percy's dream and despite the July night air he suddenly felt cold. She probably expected a joke in return, but for once he couldn't stomach it, and instead he said seriously, "Before you woke me, I had a dream."

Annabeth's wry smile faded, her eyebrows drawing together. She knew as well as he did that demigod dreams rarely brought them any good news. "What kind of dream?"

He hesitated, drawing an uncertain breath. "I saw my dad."

She turned to stare at him, eyes widening. "You mean he talked to you? For real?"

"Yeah." He thought back to his and Poseidon's brief conversation, replaying it in his head. "He said that… the reason we haven't heard from the gods is because they're all stuck in some enchanted sleep on Mount Olympus. Nyx has Hypnos somewhere; they think she's forcing him to help her."

"That's terrible," Annabeth said, her eyes glancing at the forest floor and a flash of fear sparking across her face. "There has to be something we can do."

"My dad think so, too," Percy agreed. "He said we need to find where Nyx is keeping Hypnos and figure out a way to set him free. They he can wake the rest of the gods and maybe turn the tides of the war."

She breathed out slowly, looking deep in thought. "That'll be dangerous," she pointed out. "He didn't give you any clues about where to look?"

Percy shook his head. "He only said they're not on Mount Olympus. Other than that, no one knows."

"We'll have to hold a meeting when we get back," Annabeth decided. "We'll all discuss this and… figure something out." Percy nodded, and she turned to face him again and asked, "Was there anything else? In your dream."

"I…" His voice trailed off as images flashed behind his eyes. Another unwarranted chill swept down his spine and he had to fight to keep from visibly shaking. "Erebos," he finally said, his voice strangely weak and strained—almost as though the King of Darkness was standing right in front of him once again. "I met Erebos."

This time Annabeth froze, stopping in her tracks and staring at Percy with wide eyes as he turned around to face her. "You… what?"

"He figured out my dad tried to contact me and… I don't know, intercepted it somehow." The memory of the god's dark, empty eyes pushed to the surface and Percy cringed, unable to stop himself. "He was there, Annabeth. I saw him."

She frowned, probably sensing his sudden discomfort. "What was he like?"

Percy shook his head and blinked, and when he didn't answer right away Annabeth stepped up and slid her hand into his, squeezing his fingers and sending a shock of warmth cutting through the cold darkness that had come over him. Relaxing a bit, he swallowed hard and said, "Scary." It wasn't a joke, and Annabeth didn't laugh. The crease between her eyebrows tightened, worry in her eyes. "Even in the dream, his aura was really strong. I couldn't fight him—couldn't even stand up to him."

"You mean he's like Nyx?" she asked apprehensively.

He knew what she meant. Last month, they'd learned the hard way that Nyx, the Queen of Night, had a godly aura that sapped a person's strength, draining the energy from your body. But he shook his head. "No, it was different. With Nyx, I remember I _couldn't_ fight back. But with Erebos, it was like… like I _wanted_ to just lie down and die. Like… my will to fight was just gone."

"So Night drains strength," Annabeth summed up quietly, "and Darkness drains will. How are we ever gonna win this?"

"I don't know." Surprisingly, he meant it.

As they slowly started walking again, Annabeth spoke up, "Did Erebos… you know, say anything?"

Though he didn't want to, Percy forced his mind to recall his and Erebos's brief conversation—though the image of those eyes, those swirling clouds of blackness, kept swimming in and out of his focus. "Just some stuff about how darkness is more powerful than light—how we can't escape him. He said we'd meet again, him and me. That we aren't as safe as we think we are."

"Well, that's comforting," Annabeth said sarcastically, "because I feel _so_ safe already."

Percy managed an amused snicker, telling himself that at least for now, it didn't matter what the King of Darkness said in a dream. He knew his friends, and he knew they wouldn't give up the fight so easily. They'd made it this far, after all. Maybe Erebos wasn't as strong as he thought he was.

After a few minutes of silence, the sound of leaves rustling ahead caught their attention just before Grover and the girls suddenly appeared—though, for some reason, they were coming _toward_ Percy and Annabeth.

"You guys took your time," Grover whispered when he was close enough.

Frowning and lowering his voice in kind, Percy asked, "Why are we whispering?"

"Something's up ahead," the satyr replied seriously.

Percy shot a glance at Tyler and Lydia, who were standing next to each other and looking worried. Then he looked at Annabeth and whispered, "You guys stay here. I'll check it out." For good measure, he pulled Riptide out of his pocket and uncapped it, just in case of another surprise monster attack. Annabeth nodded and pulled out her knife as Percy started forward, doing his best to keep silent as his eyes studied the darkness for movement.

He'd gone a few yards with no opposition and was about to turn back when he heard a light _smack_, like a leaf being swatted aside. He whipped around just in time to see a small flash of light whip through the darkness before a vice-like grip grabbed his shoulder and yanked him backward against a tree. He yelled in surprise and tried to jerk away, only to realize that he was stuck. He glanced to the side and saw why—a silver arrow was through his sleeve, pinning him by his jacket to the tree trunk.

"What the…?" he muttered, reaching toward the arrow. He gripped the shaft and tried to pull it out, but it wouldn't budge.

"Whoops," a girl's amused voice said suddenly. "Sorry, Percy."

A shock ran through Percy as he recognized the voice. He knew who he'd see even before she stepped through the trees, bow at her side. "_Thalia?_" he said in disbelief.

Thalia Grace folded her arms, silver hoodie and diadem barely illuminating the smirk on her face. "You should clean yourself up," she said. "Thought you were a monster."

* * *

**Hooray! It feels so good to finally be rolling with this. I can't tell you how excited I am. Does that make me sound lame? Probably, haha. But whatever.**

**Reviews are love, you guys! Hearing from you makes me super happy! Dunno when the next update will be 'cause I haven't started it yet. But probably early next week. No later, for sure.**

**Later days!**

**-oMM**


	3. III Percy

**Hi gang! I said I'd update next week, but I didn't feel like waiting. This chapter's a bit on the short side, so I figured, why not?**

**Time for a little background. Thanks, everybody who read/reviewed! Enjoy!**

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**III  
PERCY**

Percy should have stopped being surprised by now when Thalia didn't age. The last time he'd seen her had been almost a year ago, during the Giant War the previous summer when she and the Hunters of Artemis had joined the battle overseas. And now here she was again, standing there in the woods with her permanent appearance of a fifteen-year-old girl. At first, it wasn't a big deal. But the older he got, the stranger it seemed.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her as he stared at her in shock.

She shrugged. "I could ask you the same thing."

"You know what I mean," he argued, shaking his head. "What happened to you guys? We haven't heard from you since before the Shadow War started."

Thalia's smirk faded, her expression turning serious. "The Shadow War," she repeated almost sullenly. "So that's what you're calling this."

Just then, Annabeth emerged from the darkness, saying, "Percy, what's going on? We heard voices—" She broke off and stared as her gaze fell on Thalia. Then a grin slid across her face and without a word she rushed forward, throwing her arms around her friend. Thalia stumbled and laughed, returning the embrace readily.

"Nice to see you, too, Annabeth," she said, the smile back on her face. She grinned over Annabeth's shoulder at Grover, who had just led Tyler and Lydia through a pair of trees.

"Are the rest of the Hunters here?" Grover asked after greeting her.

Thalia jerked her head in the direction she'd come from. "Some of 'em. They're a few yards back, packing up camp."

"So what are you guys doing out here?" Annabeth asked, stepping back and folding her arms across her chest. "We've been worried since we haven't heard from you."

Thalia opened her mouth to respond, but Percy interrupted, "Wait, hold the phone." He pointed to the silver arrow still pinning his sleeve to the tree trunk and said, "A little help here?"

Thalia snorted in amusement and stalked up to Percy and his tree as Annabeth raised an eyebrow and asked, "What happened?"

"What do you think?" he replied dryly. Thalia reached up and grabbed the arrow, yanking back on it, but when it didn't pull free or even so much as shift position, Percy rolled his eyes and said, "Yeah, thanks, I tried that."

As Thalia shrugged, he tightened his grip on Riptide with his free hand and raised his arm, swinging the blade down to slice the arrow in half. Thalia's eyes widened and she shouted, "No, don't—!" right before the Celestial bronze _clanged_ against the arrow shaft, glancing to the side and jarring Percy's arm. He staggered a bit, surprised, and Thalia placed her hands on her hips and said, "You idiot. That's Olympian steel. You won't break it with _that_. You won't break it with _anything_."

"Well, you got any other bright ideas, then?" Percy shot back. "'Cause I don't plan on spending the rest of my life stuck to this tree. This isn't exactly the most comfortable—"

"Alright, alright, cool down," Thalia responded. She stepped back and cocked her head to the side. "Why don't you just take off your jacket?"

"Can't," he argued, tugging at the material. "You got my shirt, too."

"Hmm," she muttered. The corner of her mouth twitched upward and she looked sideways at him as she suggested with an odd air of innocence, "You could take your shirt off. I won't stop you."

He glared pointedly at her. "I'm not stripping for you," he said dryly.

He heard Annabeth stifle a giggle as Thalia shrugged and gave a short sigh, saying, "Can't blame a girl for trying. Annabeth, give me your knife." When Annabeth obliged and handed it over, Thalia flipped it in her hand and stalked up to Percy's tree. "Hold still," she ordered.

"You're not gonna cut my arm off, are you?" he asked, only half-joking.

She arched an eyebrow. "If you don't hold still, I might." Gripping the knife steadily, Thalia brought the blade near the shaft of the arrow and sliced it carefully through the fabric of Percy's jacket and shirt sleeve. He felt the pull of the steel arrow vanish, finally allowing him to lower his arm. Stiff, he straightened and swung it in a circle before twisting to examine the hole in his sleeve, just below his left shoulder.

"When did you get so tall?" Thalia asked suddenly, her gaze rising to a spot somewhere just above Percy's line of vision.

He grinned, realizing that she seemed shorter than he remembered her—however ridiculous that sounded. Even Annabeth was taller than her now. "We can't all be immortal maidens who never age," he replied wryly, though he noticed all the irritation had faded from his voice now that he was free of her arrow.

She cocked her head to the side, conceding the point. "So now that we're all separated from trees," she said as she handed Annabeth her knife, "how about we head to my camp and have a nice long chat? I've been dying for a few good stories."

-ψ-ψ-ψ-

As it turned out, Thalia had been traveling with seven other Hunters, all of whom were gathered in a small clearing not far from where Percy and the others had run into her. As per usual, they weren't exactly happy of the company and when Thalia requested that they stay a while longer and talk with the others, the remaining Hunters were sure to sit a short ways away from their lieutenant and her friends—though they made it a point to throw the occasional dirty look their way, and Percy tried not to notice that almost all of those looks were directed at him.

Thalia promised to tell them what she and the Hunters had been up to, but first she wanted to hear more about the Shadow War and the absence of the gods. As expected, they hadn't seen or heard from Artemis in over a month, and their ranks had grown worried for their leader's safety. So Annabeth, Percy, and Grover took it in turns explaining what they could about their journey the previous month—about the prophecy, Camp Jupiter's disappearance, Nico di Angelo's memory loss, and their discovery that Nyx, the primordial goddess of night, was behind it all. They told her how they'd located the missing city of New Rome and attempted to make a stand against Nyx during the lunar eclipse, and that it had all gone wrong. She had succeeded in raising her brother Erebos, the King of Darkness, from his prison and together they had blanketed the world in an eternal, starless night. And thus the Shadow War had begun.

Soon after that, Percy and the others had returned to Camp Half-Blood, taking all of New Rome's survivors with them, while all around them the world fell into disarray. Monster sightings were at an all-time high and chaos ran rampant in all major cities. The mortals, clueless and innocent as ever, were apparently attributing the constant darkness to strange weather patterns and global warming. Many places were in upheaval, even without the knowledge of what was really happening to the world. The Mist must have hidden the true threat from them, but what they saw when hellhounds and giants and dracaenae roamed the streets, Percy hadn't the slightest clue. Shops and restaurants had closed. Businesses were placed on hold. Homes were under lockdown. News stations did their best to remain open, unsurprisingly, but they were among the few. He didn't know what the majority of the people believed, but they obviously knew _something_ was very wrong.

Recruitment efforts at Camp Half-Blood were increased, with teams of satyrs and armed demigods tracking down any half-bloods—claimed or unclaimed—who hadn't already been brought in (which was what Percy, Annabeth, and Grover were doing now with Tyler and Lydia). The place had become something of a refugee camp, a crowded, chaotic safe home for those victims of the war that knew what was truly going on. But in addition to that, the camp was, under Chiron's supervision, made into a command central—a base of operations for what the campers had started to call "the Resistance". The Resistance was made up of mixed Greek and Roman demigods and legacies from Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter, retired legionnaires from New Rome, and new recruits who had yet to belong to any one place. Their primary focus was defending the camp and discovering a way to defeat Nyx and Erebos—though of course that was much easier said than done. Much of their time was spent on recovery missions, combat training, weapon building and maintenance, and security. The kids from the Hecate cabin had set to the task of strengthening and maintaining the border around the camp, but it wasn't infallible. The occasional threat always slipped through, and when it did they had to be ready to fight it.

More than once, the Resistance had tried to contact Thalia and the Hunters without luck. Iris-messaging was down due to their lack of contact with the gods (though now they knew the reason for that—a reason Percy was sure to repeat for Thalia and Grover), and none of them carried cell phones. According to her, they had split their numbers into eight-person groups and spread out, trying to find Artemis and figure out what had happened to the world. She and her team were just headed to Camp Half-Blood when they'd run into Percy, Annabeth, and Grover.

"So you'll come back with us, then?" Annabeth asked after hearing this news.

Thalia nodded, her expression grim after listening to her friends' story. "Two months ago, I'd have said it's more dangerous to travel in large groups. But let's face it, now it's dangerous no matter what we do. Might as well bulk up our ranks in case anything big comes along."

"We should get going, then," Grover suggested, shaking Tyler and Lydia's shoulders. They'd fallen asleep on either side of him as the others had talked. "The sooner we get to camp, the better."

As they all climbed to their feet, a sudden and threatening howl sounded from somewhere in the distance, back in the direction from which they'd come.

"Wh-What was that?" Lydia asked as she and her sister gasped and huddled close to each other.

A second and third howl answered, followed by a distant growl. Percy felt his heartbeat quicken as a cold feeling crept across his skin, raising the hairs on the back of his neck, and Annabeth turned to him and muttered, "You don't think it's another hellhound pack, do you?"

His eyes peered into the darkness between the trees outside their small campsite and he replied in a low voice, "Probably the same one." Annabeth bit her bottom lip but didn't argue the possibility. Since the start of the war, monsters of all kinds seemed to be having a particularly difficult time staying dead. It reminded him of early in the Giant War, when Gaea had taken Thanatos, the god of death, captive and forced him to do her bidding. With a jolt, he remembered his dream—his father telling him that the gods were all bound in an enchanted sleep—and it suddenly made sense. If Thanatos as well was asleep, it was no wonder the line between life and death had been so blurred. Unfortunately, that meant nothing good for them. He had a nasty feeling that if Erebos wanted someone or something to stay dead, it would. Thanatos was another of Nyx's children, after all.

"Either way," Annabeth said after a beat, "I don't want to stick around to greet them. We've got to get Tyler and Lydia back safely."

"I'm with you," Percy agreed. "I've been covered in enough monster dust for the day. I'll be washing it out of my hair for weeks."

"That's assuming you actually _wash_ your hair," Annabeth pointed out with a light smirk, poking him in the side of the head. He waved her hand away and shook his head with a wry grin, appreciating the attempt to lighten the mood.

As they all gathered their things and set off together through the forest, Percy couldn't help but think that eventually this darkness that had blanketed them would become so solid and complete that no amount of humor or hope would have a chance to lighten it. He shrugged the thought off, blaming the lingering remnants of his dream-visit from Erebos. But even behind that, he could feel a tiny shadow trying to form in his own mind, as if meeting the King of Darkness had opened a door inside him and what little light he had left was pouring out of it, slipping away like water through his fingers. And soon, he had a feeling that it would grow less and less easy for him to keep holding on.

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**So there's a bit about what's been going on since the war started. Now you can sort of see the more serious tone this story is gonna take. I promise there'll still be funny and happy bits, though, so never fear, haha.**

**New POV next chapter! It's another one I didn't get to do last book, so I'm kind of excited, haha. It's fun to expand and try some new people. We're back at Camp Half-Blood next chapter, too, for a good bit more backstory.**

**Reviews make my day, guys! No idea when I'll update next. I have the next few chapters done already, so next week definitely. It'll depend on my mood and how many reviews I get, heh heh :D**

**Later days!**

**-oMM**


	4. IV Piper

**Hi, gang! Thank you all of you who reviewed last chapter! Ready for another update? And another new POV? And some more background on the war and the state of things? How about what some other characters are up to? If you answered 'yes' to any of those questions, then congratulations! Read on for your prize!**

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**IV  
PIPER**

Jab low. Left sidestep. Turn. Swing high. Duck. Push forward. Spin. Swing low.

Piper loved combat training. The jarring _clang_ of metal against metal was strangely therapeutic. It monopolized her focus and blocked out everything else, all her other problems and worries and fears. All that mattered was the sword in her hand and her opponent's next move. There was no war, no darkness, no evil hovering over her and threatening to drag everything she held dear to a shadowy oblivion. There was only her—her focus and her breathing, her footwork and her agility. She didn't love fighting, exactly, but she loved being strong—capable of protecting the many things in her life that she had to protect. That was why she did it, why adrenaline swam through her veins whenever she blocked a strike and she felt a rush at the dull _thud_ that sounded whenever she landed a hit against armor.

Her dueling partner, however, didn't seem to share that sentiment.

"I yield!" he shouted, hopping on one leg after Piper's bronze sword collided with his left shin guard.

"Not yet, you don't," she argued, spinning around and whacking the flat of her blade against her opponent's side. He cried out and stumbled back.

He then made a wild swing toward her shoulders with his own sword, but she leaned back, avoiding the blow and ducking toward him. She turned sideways and jammed the hilt of her sword into his stomach. He gasped and fell backward onto the ground, turning and curling his body into a ball with a groan and another claim of "Yield, I yield…"

Piper gave an exasperated sigh and loosened her stance, letting her sword arm fall lax at her side. She reached up and pulled off her half helm, shaking her head so her messy hair fell down to her shoulders. "Mitchell," she said flatly, fixing her opponent with a pointed look, "we aren't gonna win this war by _yielding_. If you yield against Nyx or Erebos, you _die_."

"Maybe," Mitchell replied, pulling himself into a sitting position and removing his own helmet, "but I've got enough cuts and bruises to know that yielding against _you_ is still the better option."

Piper sighed again, though this time more submissively. "I'm sorry," she admitted, reaching down and pulling him to his feet. "I just… don't want you to get hurt. Any of you."

Her half-brother arched an eyebrow. "You've got a funny way of showing it," he said wryly, but when she frowned his expression seemed to soften. "Kidding," he explained. "I understand why you push us so hard. Really." With a slightly rueful smirk, he added, "I just wish for a little more padding sometimes, is all."

She smiled, glad he wasn't truly angry with her. She'd been the first of the Aphrodite kids to take up sword-fighting, but not long after that the rest of her cabin-mates had followed her lead. She was glad—they were in a war, after all. The last thing she wanted was for her friends to be thrown into the fray without any way to protect themselves. She'd never told them outright that she wanted them to learn to fight for their own protection, but by the look of things, she didn't need to.

"I can't go _too_ easy on you," she pointed out. "I don't want to lose my edge."

"Why didn't you just ask Jason to spar with you?" Mitchell suggested. "That guy looks like he can take a hit. And throw 'em back a lot better than me."

Piper pressed her lips together as she felt her muscles tighten, her limbs suddenly hard as lead. "He was busy," she said stiffly, trying to keep the twinge of tightness from her voice. Evidently, she'd failed, because the look on Mitchell's face flashed from confusion to a sort of embarrassed understanding.

"Oh," he said lamely, clearing his throat. "Well… I should probably go get cleaned up. Lots to do today, you know. Um… Thanks, Piper. For the help. And the bruises." He shot her a slightly awkward grin before turning and shuffling out of the arena, off to who-knows-where.

Piper looked after him for a long minute before her eyes slowly traveled up toward the huge, stadium lights set up around the arena, their brilliance temporarily blinding her. She hadn't wanted to scare him off, but he'd broached a subject she wasn't entirely keen on talking about, so perhaps it had been unavoidable. All of Piper's friends and general acquaintances knew that she and Jason had been spending less time together, but the number of people who truly knew _why_ was much less impressive. Many of them probably attributed it to the fact that things had been extremely busy since the start of the war, and to be honest, that may have been part of it. But the truth was that ever since the night of the lunar eclipse, Jason had been different.

There had been close to 150 casualties when New Rome had been sacrificed to raise Erebos from his prison. The loss had been worse than Piper could have imagined, and it had cut them all deeply. Spirits had been broken, morale shattered. Their sense of safety and security had crumbled, so many hopes buried in the sand with the city they'd come to know and rely on. The Greek demigods had welcomed the Romans, giving them a haven when they had nowhere else to turn to. It had been difficult—it still _was_ difficult—but Reyna and the other Twelfth Legion officers had worked with Chiron and the Greek leaders to unite their Resistance. It was a group effort, one that everyone had a role in. And while Jason had readily accepted whatever task he was needed for, his attitude and countenance had changed. Reyna had made every attempt to put aside her grief, but Jason seemed to let his consume him.

For whatever reason, it was obvious that he blamed himself for what had happened. Piper had tried to tell him that that was stupid, that he did everything he could and Nyx's power and planning had simply been too much for them. But he wouldn't listen. Some part of her thought it understood what he must have been thinking. He had grown up with these people, had risen through their ranks and become leader at a young age. Then before the Giant War, he'd been taken from them and forced to forget they even existed. But even when his memories had returned, still he hadn't gone back to Camp Jupiter for many more months—and when he did, it was with a host of Greek demigods. And he'd left them again that same day, gone off traveling while Reyna had led the rest of the Legion to war. After Gaea's defeat, they'd welcomed him back—even restored his position as praetor. Things had gone well for a while, until Nyx intervened and transported the entire city of New Rome to Death Valley, trapping them at the base of a sandy hill. With Reyna gone, it had fallen to Jason to protect the Legion—to save them. To figure out what had happened and stop it before it was too late.

And he'd failed.

To him, that must have been the final straw. Piper had told him not to feel so guilty, that everyone made mistakes and that everyone could be forgiven. But he'd only shook his head, telling her that he wasn't someone worthy of forgiveness. He didn't deserve it, and he didn't deserve her. That was over four weeks ago. And they hadn't spoken since.

With a sigh, Piper shook her head and ran a hand through her hair, her fingers catching in days of tangles and knots that she'd been too preoccupied to comb out. She didn't have time to think about Jason and his problems. In a war, there were always things to do. She'd been meaning to pay a visit to the infirmary, which seemed as good a plan as any. So after stowing her equipment in one of the sheds by the arena, she hurried back to her cabin to quickly change and wash some of the sweat from her face before setting off across the camp, taking in some of the sights as she walked and thinking back on how the place had changed in the last month.

A number of additional cabins had been hastily built to make room for the Romans and new recruits, and the existing campers had been shuffled around to free up more space. A lot of them were still staying in the cabin belonging to their godly parent, but that wasn't always the case. The Apollo and Demeter cabins had been emptied for new arrivals, their residents moved into various other places. Many of the Athena and Aphrodite kids had offered up their beds and chosen to move elsewhere as a courtesy. A large chunk of the Hephaestus cabin had moved into the forges or equipment labs—or Bunker 9, in a few cases—because of the amount of work they'd been charged with. Between forging new weapons and armor, building roofs to put over people's heads, and engineering the lighting equipment the camp utilized due to the constant darkness, they were always busy. Some of them, Piper knew, often went days without sleep, and the small amounts of sleep they _did_ get were often spent lying on the floor beside whatever project they'd been working on.

The new housing and lighting structures made the place crowded enough, and the increased number of people made it worse. It wasn't as though you couldn't walk through the camp without running into people, but before, it was possible to travel from one place to another without seeing anyone. Now, there wasn't a chance of that. No matter what time of day or night it was, there were always people about—training at the arena, working at the forges, milling about the cabins, meeting in a free corner, visiting the gigantic tent put up outside the Big House that served as their expanded infirmary. Sometimes there were good moods, oftentimes there weren't. Above the stadium lights, the dark, starless sky was always visible—a constant reminder of the war literally looming over their heads, of the danger they just couldn't completely escape.

Piper had made it halfway to her destination when something caught her eye—a recruitment party returning from a mission. Recognizing some of them at once, she diverted her course without a second thought, breaking into a jog as she headed up the hill.

As she reached a hand up and waived, she realized that party was larger than expected. Percy, Annabeth, and Grover were there, predictably, as well as two young girls Piper didn't recognize whom she assumed must have been the new arrivals. Following them, however, was a group of eight Hunters of Artemis—including their lieutenant, Jason's sister Thalia. Seeing her inevitably brought Piper's thoughts veering back to Jason, but she tried her hardest to push them aside and give her friends a smile.

"Hey, guys," she said when she was within earshot. "Welcome back. Looks like your mission was more of a success than expected."

"You could say that," Percy said with a glance toward the Hunters. "How are things here?"

"No change," Piper reported. "We had a bit of a scare with the barrier a few hours ago, but nothing major. Everything's fine now." She nodded toward the two young girls, both of whom were surveying the camp with wide eyes. "These the newbies? Any ideas on parentage?"

"We've got a few guesses," Grover answered. "I'm gonna show 'em around, introduce 'em to a couple of the head counselors and see if anything clicks. Katie first?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Katie first," Annabeth agreed, and Grover took a hand of each of the two young girls, leading them past Piper and down the hill.

"Piper, right?" Thalia said with a glance at Piper, touching a finger to her chin. When Piper nodded, Thalia smiled and asked, "How's my brother?"

Again, Piper stiffened. She noticed both Percy and Annabeth quickly avert their gazes, suddenly looking uncomfortable, and she understood why—they were two of the few people who knew what was really going on between Piper and Jason. When the pause she took before answering was just a few seconds too long, Percy cut in lightly, "I'm sure he's off working on something in his cabin. I swear, that guy's always busy nowadays." Piper shot him a grateful look and he smiled.

"Guess I'll have to drop in on him later," Thalia decided, and if she'd sensed something awkward about the situation she didn't let it on.

"I'm gonna check in with Chiron," Percy said, shifting the pack on his back as his eyes suddenly grew serious. "Stuff to talk about. You coming?" he asked Annabeth.

"Actually," she replied, "I was thinking I'd go check in with Will. See how Rachel's doing."

"That's where I was headed," Piper remembered, shooting a glance toward the infirmary.

"Great," Annabeth said with a smile. "Then we'll go together."

"I'll come with you," Thalia suggested to Percy. "I should report to Chiron, too. It's been a while, after all." She turned to her fellow Hunters and nodded, and they started past her and down the hill. Piper ignored the displeased looks they gave her, probably sensing who she was—the Hunters of Artemis had never gotten along well with children of Aphrodite.

"Let me know if you learn anything new," Percy said to Annabeth and Piper, before he leaned over and gave his girlfriend a kiss on the cheek, his hand holding onto hers a few seconds. Then he grinned at Piper and lightly punched her shoulder before he and Thalia jogged away toward the Big House.

The brief show of affection pulled at something sharp in Piper's chest, as though a needle had been yanked quickly out of her heart. She tried to hide it, but she must not have done a very good job, because Annabeth smiled sympathetically and said, "Sorry."

"Don't be," Piper argued, shaking her head. "With everything that's going on, you guys deserve every happiness you've got. Don't let me ruin it by being stupid."

"You're _not_ stupid," Annabeth said firmly. "You're just… going through a rough time. Don't worry, okay? …He'll come around." She reached out and gripped Piper's hand, offering a friendly smile that Piper couldn't help returning.

"I hope so," she agreed, before leading the way down the hill away from the camp border.

They reached their destination a few short minutes later. As they pushed aside the hanging canvas over the entrance and stepped inside, Piper quickly realized that they weren't the only visitors. The infirmary tent was large enough to comfortably house dozens of patients, more if comfort was overlooked. They'd had no casualties since the start of the war, but quite a few injuries—with fighting happening every week, it was unfortunately unavoidable. A few members of the Apollo cabin were overseeing the healing, monitoring their stocks of ambrosia and nectar and only using them for injuries that couldn't be treated with mortal or magical methods.

Annabeth and Piper strode down the center aisle toward the bed against the farthest back-left corner. In it lay the first person who'd been settled in the new infirmary—their Oracle host, Rachel Elizabeth Dare. She was sleeping soundly and stilly, but beneath her lids her eyes shifted back and forth, her brow just barely creased as though she were dreaming. Her breathing was slow and even, her skin unnaturally pale. She looked the same as she had for weeks.

On the chair beside Rachel's bed sat a thin, red-plumed harpy. She was perched with her feet pulled up on the very edge of the chair, leaning forward as though preparing to dive. Her brown eyes were fixed on Rachel, her head tilting slowly back and forth as though seeing her from a different angle might make her suddenly look better.

"Hi, Ella," Annabeth greeted the harpy. "Any change?"

Ella shook her head, not looking at Annabeth. "No change," she said quietly. "Change. Change is good. 'Be the change that you wish to see.' Mahatma Gandhi, 1869 to 1948. Change. No change."

"Hey, guys," a voice said suddenly, and Piper and Annabeth both turned to see the head counselor of the Apollo cabin, Will Solace, approaching them. Piper was struck by how worn out he looked. His limbs sagged at his sides and his face was a loose mask of no expression, his blue eyes dark and bloodshot. His blond hair fell dirty and unkempt to his ears, and his clothes were wrinkled. She resisted the urge to tell him how awful he looked, knowing that he'd been working tirelessly in the war effort. It felt like an insult to ask him to take it easy.

"Hey, Will," Piper responded with a smile. "How's Rachel?"

Will shook his head with a heavy sigh. "Not good," he said, and Piper was slightly impressed that even though he looked so tired, his voice was as sure and strong as ever. "She's breathing okay, but she hasn't woken up and her pulse is still weak. We've switched to feeding her intravenously to get her the proper nutrients, but it's like she just can't get her strength back. The most that's happened is occasionally she'll mutter something in her sleep—snippets of prophecy, I think. It's rough to make out, and doesn't make much sense. Some of it we've heard before." He placed one hand on his hip and ran the other through his hair, frowning down at Rachel. "I've tried everything. Ambrosia and nectar have no effect, even healing hymns. I just wish there was more I could do."

Piper didn't respond. She knew he was already doing everything he could, and saying it aloud seemed unnecessary. Instead, she followed his gaze toward Rachel. So far, no one was absolutely sure exactly what it was that was ailing the Oracle. She had just suddenly collapsed at the start of the war, on the same night that Erebos had risen and the sky had darkened. Will was in charge of overseeing her condition, and according to him, it was as though something had swooped in and suddenly sapped all of her strength, like her life force was being pulled away and she was barely hanging onto it. Annabeth had a theory—that the darkness was somehow clouding the Oracle's sight, and that that in turn affected Rachel's body. The Oracle of Delphi had bound itself to her will, to her spirit. If it was weakened by the blanket of darkness surrounding them, then it would follow that Rachel would be weakened as well. This unfortunately would mean that the only way to save her would be to defeat Erebos and bring light back to the world.

Her heart growing heavy like it had been wrapped in drying cement, Piper twisted around to observe the remainder of the tent. About half the beds were occupied with patients, injuries varying from sprained ankles to a number of bloody lacerations to grade-three concussions. One guy from the Athena cabin had had his left hand sliced off at the wrist, and a Roman legionnaire from the Third Cohort had been placed in long-term care after an incident that had resulted in third-degree burns covering the entire right half of his body. Greek and Roman medics were milling about with clipboards and stethoscopes, checking on patients every few minutes.

It struck Piper as odd how quickly they had settled into the life of a wartime refugee camp—odd, and also sad. On the one hand, it was great that everyone was willing to do their part and help out. On the other, though, she would have given anything for them not to be forced to make the choice at all.

A flicker of movement caught her eye as the canvas flap at the other end of the tent was pulled aside and Connor Stoll, one of the two co-head counselors for the Hermes cabin, stepped inside. Piper assumed he was there to visit someone injured and her gaze had already begun to slide away from him when he suddenly caught her eye and started toward her. She frowned at his quickened pace, wondering what was going on.

"You guys," he said as he approached the back of the tent, his eyes shifting between Piper, Annabeth, and Will. "Chiron's called a council meeting." Piper's eyebrows shot up as Connor grinned and added, "Word is there's some news that could get us back in touch with the gods."

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**But we already know that news, don't we? All that's left is to decide what to do with it, heh heh.**

**Shoot me a review on your way out! I'll probably update this on Friday, so keep an eye out. The next chapter gives us a major plot introduction. Later days!**

**-oMM**


	5. V Piper

**Happy Friday, gang! And Happy Valentine's Day! Consider this chapter my Valentine gift to you ;) I don't think I have any pre-chapter notes. Things are moving along nice and smoothly. Thanks to all of you who reviewed last chapter! Enjoy!**

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**V  
PIPER**

The Big House rec room was another one of the many things that had changed over the past month since the darkness had settled in. Before, they used to gather around the ping-pong table for council meetings. Piper had always found it just a little strange, circling the short, rectangular gaming table to discuss things as serious as prophecies and quests. But despite that, it had become one of the many Camp Half-Blood constants that she'd come to rely on. The table, for her, signified their ability to work together and plan, to figure out a problem and a way to solve it.

But now, the increased size of their meetings meant that they could no longer use the table unless they all wanted to sit around on each other's laps—and while the Romans and Greeks were getting along just fine, she couldn't see that happening anytime in the near future. They still held their meetings in the rec room, but it wasn't quite the same. The ping-pong table had been folded up and leaned against the left wall, out of the way. An array of chairs and sofas of all levels of comfort had been brought in and placed around in no particular pattern, leaving a wide, open space in the middle of the room. It was more of a sitting room now, but as Piper, Annabeth, Will, and Connor walked in that morning, the grim atmosphere reminded her more of a funeral than a comfortable living area.

Looking around, Piper noticed that almost everyone was already present and accounted for. Chiron the centaur was in his magic wheelchair, sitting quietly near the left wall with his hands folded and his eyes closed. Percy stood near him, leaning backward against the back wall with his arms folded and a frown on his face. Thalia was sitting on the arm of the largest sofa. Beside her on the cushion was Katie Gardner, head counselor of the Demeter cabin, who was sitting noticeably close to Travis Stoll, a hand intertwined with one of his. From what Piper had heard, the two of them had always appeared to hate each other—until about six months ago when they'd suddenly started dating. The only one who hadn't been surprised was Travis's brother, Connor.

Farther down on the other end of the sofa, the Hypnos head counselor, Clovis, was dozing with his head leaning over the back cushion. Nico di Angelo had claimed the wooden chair beside him and flipped it around, sitting on it backwards with his arms draped across the backrest. Across from him against the front wall sat Clarisse La Rue of the Ares cabin, who had commandeered two chairs—one for her and one for her feet. Looking around, Piper didn't see Butch of the Iris cabin, whom she knew to be in the infirmary with a broken leg, or Pollux from Dionysus and Lou Ellen from Hecate, though she didn't know where the two of them were. Maybe on a recruitment mission.

Reyna and Jason were present as well, both of them seated on metal chairs. Reyna looked just as serious and unemotional as ever, more in-control than most of the rest of the Resistance put together. Piper forced herself not to give Jason more than a quick, sweeping glance as she surveyed the room—just enough to take in his haggard appearance and tired, bloodshot eyes. She wanted to walk over and sit beside him, but when she thought of how stubborn and self-pitying he'd been acting lately, the flash of desire faded into an empty feeling of loss, and she averted her attention.

The ten centurions of the Roman Twelfth Legion Fulminata were scattered around the room, though most of them Piper didn't know by name. The skinny, blond augur, Octavian, was standing stiffly beside Reyna's chair, the corners of his mouth turned down in a frown so deep it was almost comical. The only other centurions Piper could name were of course Frank Zhang and Hazel Levesque, who were seated on a small sofa together with their heads tilted toward each other in quiet conversation. They looked up as Piper and the others entered the room and smiled, though Piper noticed that Hazel's expression seemed a bit nervous. She understood why. Her predecessor, Dakota, had been one of the only two Roman centurions killed last month when Nyx had sacrificed New Rome in Death Valley, the other being a girl named Melina from the First Cohort. Afterward, Hazel had been hastily appointed in his place, but she had yet to fully settle into the role. Piper knew it had a lot to do with the fact that Dakota had been a friend of hers ever since she'd first joined the Legion, and taking his place as Fifth Cohort centurion would be a grim confirmation that he wasn't coming back.

As Annabeth moved to stand next to Percy and Connor seated himself on the big sofa between Travis and Clovis, Piper scanned the room one last time and started toward the cushy, moth-eaten armchair just to her right. She sat down on the edge of the chair's arm, leaning over her best friend where he sat on the cushion, legs crossed Indian-style and hands fussing over a small metal contraption in his lap.

"What's that?" she asked, cocking her head to the side to get a better look. It didn't help; the object still just looked like a hunk of machinery to her.

"Power converter," Leo Valdez answered without looking up. "Well, the core of one, anyway. You know how the lights over the mess hall went out yesterday? Turns out the whole line was fried from outside the camp—some kind of sabotage maybe, I don't know. Trouble is, we can't stick 'em on another line running close by or it'll overload. I figure the hall is close enough to the Sound we can run hydraulic power, but none of the converters we have are up to snuff. So me and Nyssa have been collecting them and assessing the damage. Think if we can, we wanna get _all_ the power run this way to avoid this problem in the future."

"Oh," Piper said lamely, not really following but still wanting to be supportive. "That's… smart of you."

Leo finally looked up at her, shaking his head with an amused grin. "Don't worry about it, Beauty Queen," he said, and though he wasn't laughing she was sure she could hear laughter in his voice. "If I'd expected you to get it, I would've brought you in on the project."

Piper smirked and smacked the back of his head just as Chiron's voice rose above the quiet chatter, and Leo stuffed the mechanical contraption in his tool belt. "Will, can you close the door please? Yes, thank you. Alright. Now that everyone's here, we can begin."

"So what's this fantastic plan that's gonna solve all our problems?" Clarisse asked with a not-so-subtle hint of sarcasm. Chiron turned and nodded to Percy, who stepped away from the wall. He'd barely opened his mouth to speak, however, when Clarisse rolled her eyes heavily and spoke over him, "Oh, great. Should've known this'd be another one of Jackson's brilliant ideas."

Anger sparked in Percy's eyes. "Actually," he said in a voice of forced calm, "it _wasn't _my idea. It was my father's."

Piper felt her eyes widen. Clarisse, too, apparently had nothing to say to this, and only stared at Percy with her eyebrows raised. For over a month, they had tried to contact the gods with no success whatsoever. They had begun to think that their immortal relatives had all but abandoned them, letting Erebos take over and cover everything in shadow. If Percy had indeed heard from Poseidon, then maybe hope wasn't quite as lost as they'd feared.

"He contacted me in a dream last night," Percy went on with a glance at Annabeth. She nodded, and he explained how Poseidon had entered his dream and told him that the reason the gods had been so distant was because Erebos had trapped them on Mount Olympus in a magic slumber fashioned by the god of sleep, Hypnos, whom Nyx evidently had taken prisoner.

"So the gods want us to find Hypnos and set him free," Reyna guessed, earning an affirmative nod from Percy. Clovis snored a bit at the mention of his father's name, but otherwise didn't budge. "I don't suppose we've got any clues on where to look."

"I may be able to help with that," Thalia spoke up. "The Hunters and I have been doing some traveling, looking into the state of the world since this war started. There are two places that the darkness seems to culminate, like the shadows are thicker, more packed together. The first is here in New York, the second is Death Valley."

"That's where Nyx raised Erebos last month," Hazel pointed out. "On the night of the eclipse."

"My guess," Thalia continued, "is that she's still there. Probably with Hypnos."

There was a murmur of general assent and interest. A Roman Piper didn't know sat forward and said, "It makes sense."

"So wait," Travis said with a frown. "Does that mean since the other super-dark place is here, that's where Erebos is? If that's the case, why haven't we seen him? Why hasn't he made a move on us?"

"Perhaps he's biding his time," Reyna suggested, touching a finger to her chin in thought. "I hate to say it, but it isn't like we're getting any stronger or any more ready. What has he got to lose by waiting, really?"

"It could be good for us." Will this time. "Think about it. If he's just hanging out, that gives us time to track down Hypnos, right? So let's take advantage of it. Especially if we've got a good idea where he is."

"That's all well and good," Octavian put in, sounding irritable—though, as Piper had realized during their brief stay in Death Valley, he was hardly ever _not_ irritable. "But if Erebos is here, then we can probably assume he's watching us. Don't you think he'll notice if we suddenly set off on a cross-country road trip?"

Chiron spoke next, his expression a thoughtful frown. "I suggest we send only a traditional team of three people," he said, sounding weary. "It may be risky, but also more likely to avoid detection. There's also the question of how to get there."

"There's always shadow-travel," Nico suggested. "Fast and hard to track."

Annabeth took a step forward and shook her head. "You can't shadow-travel all the way to California, it'll kill you," she said seriously. "And even if you could, there's no way you could take anyone with you."

"I think you underestimate me," Nico replied, raising an eyebrow.

Before Annabeth could argue, Leo interrupted, "Uh, guys, aren't we forgetting something? You know, a certain ten-ton mechanical dragon that's been dying to spread its wings?" He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows and everyone else exchanged looks, muttering about the validity of the suggestion. After all, Leo had finished repairing Festus to full working order two weeks after the start of the war. He hadn't been on any long-distance flight-tests, as they only left the camp on important business anymore, but the dragon had done laps around the inside of the border and was apparently working better than ever. That it could make a trip to California and (hopefully) back wasn't a far-fetched idea at all.

"We don't exactly have time to kill, here," Octavian said dryly. "I'm sure that thing would take weeks to make such a flight." Leo arched an eyebrow and Piper saw his jaw tighten. She tensed, ready to grab him if she needed to. Insulting Leo's handiwork was _not_ something you wanted to do.

But instead, his expression returned to his usual cocky grin and he said lightly to the room at large, "Festus's average flight speed tops out at about a hundred fifty knots. If all goes well, we can make the trip in… about fourteen hours." It might have been Piper's imagination, but she could have sworn Leo looked directly at Octavian at those last two words.

And then something else he said struck her. "We?" she repeated, a hand going to his shoulder and pulling him back to look at her.

Leo shrugged. "Where Festus goes, I go," he said shortly. "No one else knows how to run him." She was about to remind him just how dangerous this mission was and that it shouldn't be taken so lightly, but then she noticed the seriousness in his eyes and she kept her mouth shut. He understood what he was getting into.

"It seems we have our first volunteer," Chiron said with a nod toward Leo. "Anyone else? I urge you to please consider how difficult and dangerous the journey will be."

"I'm in," Nico said at once. "This is a stealth mission, right? As I'm sure most of you have noticed, I have a habit of blending in with the darkness." A few people snickered in agreement, but Nico didn't seem bothered. "Plus you're gonna need me if we run into the Furies."

Chiron nodded, though Piper noticed the look in his eyes growing grimmer by the second. "Yes, good. One more should suffice."

Piper wasn't sure if she wanted to volunteer. On the one hand, she was worried about Leo and the trip would help distract her from Jason. But on the other, if she left now, she may never have the chance to make up with him. She shot a glance his way and was surprised to see him watching her with an expression of worry—maybe even fear. As soon as their eyes met, he lowered his gaze, but not fast enough that she didn't notice.

Around the room, people were exchanging apprehensive glances, and she knew they were all doing like she was—weighing the pros and cons. Percy looked about to speak, but Annabeth gripped his arm and shook her head. For whatever reason, she didn't want him going along. And surprisingly, he fell silent at her look.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, someone finally spoke up, "I'll go." Piper looked around and was surprised to see Reyna on her feet, arms crossed in front of her. Leo's gaze snapped onto her immediately, his eyes widening just barely and his eyebrows drawing together. Reyna's eyes flitted toward him for the briefest of moments before she pressed her lips together and looked away, raising her chin a fraction of an inch. Piper wondered briefly what that was about as Reyna went on, "As this mission affects us all, I think it would be wise to have at least one Greek and one Roman along."

"Very well," Chiron agreed, clasping his hands together. "Now, you three. I'm sure it's safe to expect that Nyx and Erebos will have spies set in place in case we wander too far from home. And If Hypnos really is in Death Valley, I'm certain he'll be well-guarded. Likely even by Nyx herself. If things get too difficult, do _not_ continue. Return and regroup. We've done well keeping everyone alive so far. The last thing I want is for us to break that streak now."

"Hey, don't worry," Leo said confidently, looking at Nico and Reyna. His gaze lingered on the latter for just a second longer before he glanced back at Chiron and grinned. "Team like this, Nyx won't know what hit her."

A few people exchanged tentative smiles, Piper included, and she knew that for once, everyone in the room was thinking the same thing. This plan gave them hope—a chance to free the gods and finally get their help in stopping Erebos. But behind the relief and confidence, a dark, unspoken question lingered, thickening the air so that Piper felt like she was trying to breathe through a pool of tar.

If so many of them had been unable to stop Nyx on the night of the eclipse, how could only three hope to stand against her long enough to free her immortal son?

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**Woo! A quest! So now you see how the plot splits very soon. In a bit, we're gonna have a few different conflicts going on at once. It's gonna be fun, just wait :D haha. I'll probably update on Tuesday, so watch for it.**

**I'll take reviews instead of Valentines! Hahaha :D Love you all! See you early next week!**

**Later days!**

**-oMM**


	6. VI Piper

**Hey gang :D Kind of a short update today. Thanks to everybody for reading, and all of you who reviewed! Enjoy!**

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**VI  
PIPER**

The council meeting ended quickly after that and everyone began filing out, a buzz floating in the air made up of mixed excitement and worry. As she allowed herself to be swept up in the crowd, Piper couldn't deny that Percy's contact with Poseidon was good news—really good news. It meant that the gods wanted to help them. The bad news, of course, was that even though they wanted to, they couldn't. At least, not until three of their campers went on a deadly quest to free the god of sleep from the clutches of his crazy mother, the Queen of Night.

A chill brushing across her skin, Piper broke away from everyone else once she'd exited the Big House. She trudged across the wraparound porch and leaned against the railing, looking out over the strawberry fields. Tall, bright, stadium lights were set up around them, just like other major areas of the camp, and she could just barely make out the forms of a handful of people milling about, checking on the crop. It wasn't as though they needed the strawberries at the moment, what with everything going on, but Piper suspected that some of the campers kept up with their maintenance almost as a sort of distraction, something to keep them occupied so they weren't focusing only on the war. A small, almost sad smile touched her lips as she watched them work, longing for the days when she could look out over the fields by the light of the sun.

"What'cha looking at?" a voice interrupted her thoughts, and she turned her head as Leo leaned his back against the railing beside her.

"Just… remembering."

He shot a glance over his shoulder, eyes going to the sky. "The sun would be up right now," he said as though reading her mind. "This whole 'constant night' thing is really disorienting. It's what, nine A.M.? Feels more like nine P.M."

Piper chuckled. "Yeah," she agreed. "Keeping my sleep schedule has been a major challenge." Leo snorted in amusement, and it struck her that he of all people wasn't one to complain to about sleep schedules. Between fixing Festus and zipping back and forth between the various jobs his cabin was conducting, he'd rapidly become one of the busiest people at camp. He didn't let it on, but she knew he'd developed a habit of going days without sleep. Lately he'd still had all the energy of a normal person—which, to those that knew him well, was evidence enough that something was off. Leo's typical energy level was way above 'normal'.

"So… You're leaving tonight," she said, changing the subject as a gnawing worry started to once again chew at her insides and crease her brow into a permanent frown.

"Yeah. After dinner." He was looking straight ahead, staring at the outside front wall of the Big House behind her, and she couldn't read the look on his face.

Piper twisted around so she was leaning on her side, facing Leo. "You'd better be careful," she said firmly, allowing her voice to be powered by just a hint of charmspeak. "You're my best friend. I don't want to lose you to this war."

He turned toward her and smiled—not his joker-like grin, but a real smile, and it actually made her feel better. "You won't," he promised. "I don't want to lose me to this war, either. Frankly, I'd hate to imagine the state of the world without me in it."

Piper had to smile. Leo had a natural way of lightening any situation that made her beyond glad they were friends. "So would I," she said sarcastically. "Still. I know how much you've pushed yourself lately. I guess what I mean is… Just don't be a hero, okay?"

Leo raised his eyebrows skeptically. "Me, a hero?" he scoffed. "I think you're confusing me with your boyfriend, Thor." Piper glanced at the floor, wanting to appreciate the joke but suddenly feeling deflated and empty like a popped balloon. When Leo spoke again his voice was quieter, more serious. "He misses you, you know."

She looked up, wondering briefly if he was joking. But that was stupid. She could tell from his tone that he was being honest. "I miss him, too," she admitted. "But I just… Every time I see him it makes me mad. I hate how much he hates himself. And that he won't let me in anymore. I just feel like I can't reach him, like he's buried himself so deep that soon he's gonna suffocate and I won't be able to save him."

"Maybe saving isn't what he needs," Leo suggested with a shrug.

Piper frowned. "Then what _does_ he need?"

He arched an eyebrow in apprehension. "You're asking me?" he said dryly. Piper smacked his arm and shot him a _'Not helping!'_ look, and he laughed. "Look, I don't exactly claim to be the Love Guru—"

"Really?" Piper asked in mock skepticism, eyebrows shooting up. "Since when?"

Leo gave a wry grin and went on, "I'm just saying you should probably… you know, try to work things out. You don't know how much time you have left, is all."

She hated to admit it, but he had a point. With the war going on, she had to decide sooner rather than later what it was she wanted to do. There was plenty to keep her busy, but she didn't exactly have the luxury of putting things off anymore.

"You're right," Piper admitted with a heavy sigh. "You _know_ you're right. I'll try." She smiled and bumped her shoulder against his, her way of saying 'thank you'. When he grinned in response, she knew he got the message. "Speaking of working things out," she went on, her train of thought shifting gears, "is something wrong between you and Reyna? You guys don't really spend much time in the same room, but I swear she was acting funny toward you at the meeting. And you were acting funny right back."

"Was I?" Leo asked with a frown. "Beats me. If she's bugged at me about something, I don't know what it is. Like you said, we don't exactly talk." He shrugged off-handedly, but something still told Piper she wasn't getting the whole story.

"So… you guys going on a quest together isn't gonna be a problem," she said with a hint of skepticism.

"Shouldn't be," he replied, and his voice and expression were so normal that Piper decided she must have imagined any weirdness after all. Maybe Reyna just had a lingering irritation toward Leo for his accidental bombing of New Rome a year ago. Even if that were true, Piper trusted Reyna and knew that she wasn't the type to let personal feelings of anger interfere with an important job, so she supposed there was nothing to worry about.

Finally, Piper nodded. "Sorry. Guess I was just thinking too much."

Leo shook his head, brushing off the issue. "I should probably go give Festus a last-minute inspection," he said, stepping away from the railing and stretching his arms.

"Good call. Wouldn't want him falling out of the sky over Colorado, now, would we?"

"You say that like it's a possibility."

Piper laughed. "Go on. I'll be there later to see you off." Leo grinned and bowed, before vaulting over the railing and setting off at a jog toward the forest.

As she watched him disappear into the blotchy shadows between the lights over the forge and the arena, his voice echoed in her head: _You don't know how much time you have left, is all._ A heavy grip pulled at something in Piper's chest as the weight of this statement settled over her like a blanket. It was the hard truth: not one of them really knew how much time they had left in the world to fix what they needed to fix or say what they needed to say. The Shadow War was like a cryptic death sentence without a specific time or place, just a constant threat whispering in your ear that each day might be your last. It was a scary thought, and Piper wanted nothing more than to just push it away and pretend it wasn't real.

But try as hard as she might to forget, the inky black sky was all the reminder she needed, pulled over their heads like a hood on their way to an execution.

* * *

**Ominous, huh? I guess darkness will do that. Anyway, another new POV narrator next chapter! Should be up on Friday. Leave me a review in the meantime?**

**Later days!**

**-oMM**


	7. VII Leo

**Hey, everybody :) Happy Friday!**

**I keep meaning to mention this again, and so far it's continued to slip my mind. But just a reminder that all the events in House of Hades did NOT happen in this story. They interfere with my timeline and all that.**

**That being said, welcome narrator 3 of 4 - the only repeat character from the first in this series! Thanks everybody who reviewed last chapter!**

**A little note, I did say this was gonna be darker than Blood and Sand. Here's a more serious taste of what I meant.**

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**VII  
LEO**

_Liar._

The word swam laps back and forth across Leo's brain, slamming against the inside of his skull like a metal hammer. He was quickly learning that every secret and every lie was like a thousand-pound weight, tied to his arms or his legs or his neck and weighing him down so heavily that he felt like he was trying to run through a river of molasses. When had that happened? When had he become this person who hid things from his friends only to be strangled by guilt and hurt when he was left alone?

Oh, yeah. He'd always been that way.

Leo was barely ten yards into the woods when he slowed to a halt and leaned his back against the trunk of a tree. He'd told Piper he was going to Bunker 9 to make sure Festus was ready for a cross-country journey. But he had no intention of actually doing that. He knew the dragon was in top form. Another lie to add to the list.

Because of the density of the trees, they'd decided not to waste electricity lighting the forest and instead left it dark and shadowy, the biggest reminder inside the camp's borders of the endless night going on outside. Leo didn't know why he'd stopped there. Nowadays, he hated the forest because he hated the dark. It had a nasty habit of bringing back flashing visions of the nightmares he'd been having, the ones that had kept him from a good night's sleep for weeks.

Well, night_mare_. It was always the same one—the same dream he'd had the night before the lunar eclipse. The dream about Nyx and her deadly black fire.

Every time darkness settled in, it was all he could see. Distinguishing between the world covered in shadows and the world burning in dark flame was becoming more and more difficult, and Leo was starting to worry that soon it would drive him insane. No one knew about it; he couldn't bring himself to say it out loud, part of him struck with the reluctant feeling that talking about it would make it more real. Demigod dreams were powerful, important things—hardly ever put there by chance. Sometimes they were visions, sometimes warnings, and sometimes symbols meant to teach something. And the fact that he was continually plagued by the same nightmare could _not_ have been a good sign.

The only one he'd ever told was Reyna, the night of the very first dream. But seeing as the two of them had hardly spoken at all since then, she didn't know that the nightmare hadn't gone away. More than once he thought of telling her, but the desire always fell short when her name crossed his mind, suddenly buried by the second-most-stressful secret he was stuck with.

He'd told Piper that there was nothing off between him and Reyna. But that couldn't have been farther from the truth. During the journey they'd been on last month, he felt like he'd started to understand her—want to be friends with her, even. And when they'd kissed the night before the eclipse, he thought he'd felt something, some spark of interest that hadn't been there before. But now, he wasn't so sure. Things had changed after that, but not in the way you'd expect.

Reyna didn't act as though it hadn't happened. In a way, it might have been easier if she did—at least then, he'd take the hint that the whole thing was a mistake. Instead, she became more distant that before, like she was trying specifically not to see, talk to, or even think about him. And Leo didn't get why. It wasn't like he was chasing after her, following her around like some lovesick puppy. He'd tried talking to her _once_, two days after the eclipse. But she'd been adamant about not answering, so he'd given up and hadn't approached her since. But still, every time they made eye contact he just couldn't figure out what she was thinking. Sometimes her eyes looked angry or frustrated, like she couldn't believe he had the nerve to be anywhere near her. But other times, he could swear she looked sad—confused, even. The constant headache pounding inside his skull from futile attempts to understand was starting to make him want to just forget the whole thing. There was no way it was worth so much pain and confusion.

Frustrated, Leo squeezed his eyes shut and pressed the heels of his hands against them, groaning at the dull throb in his head. A second later, a flash of biting, black fire swarmed across his eyelids. His eyes burned behind them and he bit his tongue to keep from screaming, suddenly afraid his eyeballs would be melted from their sockets. He tore his eyes open and the images faded, leaving his vision dim and his throat dry. Turning around, he pressed his forehead hard against the trunk of the tree, allowing the twinge of physical pain to clear his head. He lifted his hand and stared at his palm, trying not to imagine it cloaked in deadly, black flames. Taking a deep breath, he willed a small tongue of his own crimson and orange fire to flicker to life in his hand, but the sight of it dancing and twisting drove a horrible feeling of nausea into his gut. Feeling bile rise in his throat, he quickly clenched his hand into a fist, extinguishing the flame, and drove it into the tree trunk with a raspy, frustrated yell.

_Get it together!_ he scolded himself angrily. _What good are you if you're too freakin' chicken to use fire? _The quest he'd just volunteered for was extremely crucial, which meant that there was no room for screw-ups. They never would have let him sign on if they'd known his nightmares had started to render him useless in a fight. But that was why he'd wanted to go. Roaming the camp, keeping himself busy with task after task, was driving him mad—he _had_ to get out and _do_ something. It was the only way he could think of to stamp out what was bothering him once and for all.

The only problem with that plan was Reyna. He'd wanted to take the quest to get away and clear his head, focus on an important task in the hopes that it would block out everything else. But how was that possible if Reyna was right beside him every step of the way?

Which brought up another question—she'd been avoiding him for so long, so why had she volunteered in the first place? With just her, Leo, and Nico on this trip, conversation and collaboration would be unavoidable. Had she finally decided they needed to spend some time together, or was she really only thinking about the mission?

Well, there was only one way to find out. He had to find her and ask her—_before_ they set off.

Taking a deep breath to calm his still-agitated nerves, Leo pushed away from the tree and shook a few pieces of loose bark from his hair. He started off at a slow pace back toward the edge of the forest, using the time to loosen his tired limbs and expression and regain his usual laid-back attitude. He pushed all thoughts of the dream into the back corner of his mind and threw a mental wall in front of them, blocking them from his focus. He knew that as soon as he was back around other people, it would be easier not to think about all the stress he was under. But either way, he couldn't be too careful.

As he headed toward the cabins, Leo ran into Hazel and Frank, who looked to be on their way to the mess hall for a late breakfast. Or an early lunch.

"Yo, guys," he greeted them with a grin and a wave, jogging up and falling into step beside Hazel. "You seen Reyna anywhere?" A tiny blush suddenly crept up Hazel's face and Leo fought the urge to kick himself. The only ones who knew that something was going on between him and the Roman praetor were Annabeth and Hazel, and so far he'd done a good job of avoiding the subject around both of them. He could have asked _anyone_ for information on Reyna's whereabouts. And here he was, talking to one of the only two people who knew what was really going on.

Thankfully, though, Hazel followed his lead and didn't say anything, the flush on her skin fading almost as quickly as it had appeared. Some of the tension in Leo's muscles thinned when he realized he'd managed to dodge that bullet.

"I think she was heading toward the armory after the meeting," Frank said with a thoughtful frown, as if remembering used a major chunk of his brain power. "Why?"

"Just need to go over some stuff for the mission," Leo responded with a half-shrug.

At this, Hazel and Frank exchanged an uneasy glance. When they stopped walking and Hazel lightly gripped Leo's arm, there was worry in her eyes. "About that," she said a bit haltingly. "Can I… ask you a favor?"

A little alarmed at her sudden seriousness, Leo said carefully, "What favor?"

Hazel bit her bottom lip, her eyes shifting back and forth as though she were trying to make a decision. Leo swallowed hard, hoping this wouldn't have anything to do with Reyna. Finally, Hazel looked up at Leo and said shortly, "Look after my brother. Please."

"Nico?" Leo raised his eyebrows. "I'm pretty sure that guy's more than capable of taking care of himself."

"I know, I just mean that…" She seemed to be searching for the right words, unable to convey what it was she wanted. "He's reckless. He doesn't think things through. _You_ think things through. …Do that for him? Please? I thought I lost him last month. I can't do it again. I don't want to."

Struck by the obvious sincerity in her face and voice, Leo smiled. "Stop worrying, okay?" he said, putting as much confidence as he could into the words. "Everything's gonna be fine. I'll make sure of it. I promise."

A tentative smile on her face, Hazel responded, "Thanks, Leo. Really." She reached forward and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. As he returned the embrace, she added firmly, "You be careful, too, okay?"

"You got it." When they separated, Leo noticed that Frank had stiffened just noticeably. But when Hazel stepped back and took his hand, he seemed to relax and gave Leo a smile and a nod to share his girlfriend's sentiment.

"If we don't see you later," Frank said, "good luck. I've got a feeling you're gonna need it."

"A little luck sure wouldn't hurt," Leo agreed. Walking backward away from them, he added, "Thanks for the help, guys. I'm gonna go find Reyna." Exchanging a final wave, he spun around and set off for the armory.

Part of him hoped Reyna had gone somewhere else—talking to her while surrounded by weapons she could potentially use to behead him wasn't exactly high on his safety list. But sure enough, he found her in one of the weapon storehouses. She was alone, which he couldn't decide whether or not was a good thing. On the one hand, no chance of eavesdroppers meant that she was more likely to talk to him. On the other, there would be no witnesses.

"Hey," he greeted her airily, stepping inside the storehouse and leaning against the wall beside the doorway.

Reyna tensed, freezing in her action of replacing a sword in its spot on the wall. Her back was to him, and she turned her head to the side and said shortly, "Hi." She'd foregone her purple cloak and her armor, and was dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a white T-shirt, her long, black hair braided over her shoulder. She looked so vulnerable, but at the same time just as strong as she always did. It struck Leo as odd, for some reason. Maybe it was her stance, the way she stood tall and proud like an immovable mountain.

"Look, I'm just gonna come right out and ask." It was weird, talking to her after barely exchanging any words during weeks of living at the same camp. Flashes of the night he'd told her about his dream passed through his mind, but he pushed them back and went on, "Why'd you volunteer? For the quest."

She twisted to the side and turned to face the wall, revealing a single candle behind her that she must've brought to provide light. Leo's eyes darted toward the flame and a cold chill danced down his spine, but he bit his tongue and told himself to calm down. He was _not_ afraid of fire. No way.

"I told you at the meeting," Reyna finally replied, her voice stiff and all business. "This mission is important to all of us. I think it would be a detriment not to have a Roman along."

"But it could've been any Roman," Leo persisted levelly.

Reyna cleared her throat, eyes scanning a row of Celestial bronze hunting knives. "I would never ask a member of the Legion to take on a task I wasn't fully prepared to complete myself."

Feeling his eyes narrow unconsciously, he shot a glance over his shoulder to make sure no one was approaching the storehouse before taking a few steps farther into the room. "Is that the… only reason?" he asked carefully.

Her fingers twitched as they came to rest on one of the daggers. She picked it up and gripped it in her hand, eyes scanning the blade. "Look, I'll be honest," she said after a long minute of silence, and Leo felt his throat tighten in anticipation. That is, until she finished with, "I don't like you."

"Ouch," he said, wincing. Oddly, the statement had relaxed him a bit, giving him the jolt of courage he needed to say dryly, "You know, I kind of got a different vibe when you made out with me last month."

Suddenly, Reyna whipped around, taking a step that placed her right in front of Leo, her body maybe two inches from his. Whether on purpose or accidentally, the blade of the knife in her hand pushed against his leg—not enough to cut through the fabric of his jeans, but enough that he felt the pressure of the weapon. But he barely registered it at all, distracted as he was by her dark eyes staring intently into his own. There was anger on her face, but somehow it didn't seem to reflect in her eyes. In them was something else, some other emotion he couldn't figure out. If she was a machine, then all he'd need to do would be to take her apart, piece by piece, and learn everything he needed to know. But she wasn't a machine. She was a living person. And those baffled him beyond the slightest understanding.

For a long minute, they simply stared at each other as though a powerful static electricity had bound their eyes together. Then without warning, Reyna blinked once, then twice, as though trying to clear a dream from her head. She lowered her gaze, breaking the strange contact, and turned to the side, once again facing the wall.

"That was a mistake," she said, though her low voice broke just barely on the last word like she had a hard time getting it out. Leo didn't respond, his eyes still fixed on the place where hers had been just seconds before. So she cleared her throat and continued. "Neither of us can afford to be distracted right now. This mission is too important. We have to agree to keep everything professional."

Rather than wait for him to actually _agree_ to this agreement, she abruptly set the knife back down on its shelf and turned, sweeping past him at a quickened pace. He felt her arm brush against his as she passed and a jolt of electricity ran through him, dragging him out of whatever stupor he'd fallen into. On a whim, he spun around and grabbed her wrist, pulling back. Yanking her arm from his grip, she turned and stumbled, eyes widening, and braced both hands against his chest as she leaned into him to keep from falling. Again they both froze, eyes locked onto one another as if they'd been glued in place.

And there it was again—that odd, hidden emotion in Reyna's eyes that wasn't hate or anger or confusion. But this time, Leo felt a painful twisting sensation in his chest as he recognized it, knowing without a doubt what it was.

It was longing.

As though she sensed him come to this realization, she quickly lowered her head and shoved him away from her. He staggered backward against a table piled with bronze shields, his legs feeling like rapidly-melting rubber. Avoiding his eyes, she turned and stalked out of the storehouse, disappearing into the shadowy darkness as though she'd been nothing but a ghost all along.

"Yeah," Leo said to the empty air after Reyna was long gone, stunned disbelief numbing his skin like ice. "Professional."

* * *

**Yikes, drama! Haha. So for all of you who've been asking about Leo and Reyna, sorry - I'm not gonna make it that easy. Heh heh.**

**Anyway, so yes, our favorite son of Hephaestus is gonna have it kind of rough during this story. Everything will come together later on, I promise. But for now, how 'bout leaving me a review? Pretty please?**

**Have a nice weekend, gang! Later days!**

**-oMM**


	8. VIII Leo

**Hi, gang! Good weekend? Ready for another chapter? I like this one. Nice and dramatic, just the way I like 'em, haha.**

**Thanks to all of you who reviewed last week! Enjoy!**

* * *

**VIII  
LEO**

In the end, Leo did end up at Bunker 9 after all, spending the greater part of the day packing for the trip and ensuring that Festus was fully outfitted and ready. A few other people were milling about the bunker, busy with some task or another, but for the most part he was left alone in the dragon's warehouse home. Which, unfortunately, gave him plenty of time to think—something he was seriously starting to hate.

After that brief encounter with Reyna, Leo was fairly certain that the kiss had meant something to her—maybe even more certain than he was about whether or not it had meant something to _him_. But he also realized that she was desperate to keep it hidden. What really bothered him was why? Did some part of her hate him that much that she didn't want to admit to it? It was the only explanation that he could come up with. And frankly, it made him a bit angry. The least she could do was treat him like a person—tell him the truth so they could get over it and move on with their lives. If she kept acting weird around him, it would only serve to make this quest they were about to take on extremely difficult.

Leo sighed heavily as he stuffed his last bag into the cargo compartment on Festus's left flank and snapped it closed. He turned and leaned his back against the dragon's warm, metal surface, rubbing his forehead with his hands. Festus's tail curled around Leo and rubbed at his ankle, and he looked up to see the dragon's neck twisted toward him, bronze head tilted to the side in an almost questioning gesture.

With a small smile, Leo reached out and touched Festus's nose. Two tiny puffs of steam blew from the dragon's nostrils. "I wish some people made as much sense as you, buddy," he said to the automaton. "Then I wouldn't be so whacked out of my comfort zone. And this mission wouldn't be so totally screwed." Festus opened his jaws and gave a sharp series of clicks in response, and Leo nodded in agreement. "You can say that again."

"I'll never get how you understand that thing."

Leo jumped a mile high at the voice, whipping toward it and almost tripping over Festus's tail. He breathed out and relaxed when he saw Nico leaning against the work table near the wall with his arms folded, dark eyes studying the bronze dragon.

"Are you gonna do that this whole trip?" Leo asked, raising an eyebrow. He could have _sworn_ the guy hadn't been standing there twelve seconds ago.

Nico shrugged, unfazed. "Probably."

Leo shook his head and stepped away from Festus, who had turned to observe the newcomer. "Anyway, I'd watch what you say around _'that thing'_, considering he's gonna be the only thing between you and twenty-thousand feet of open air. Wouldn't want to get on his bad side." He smirked to accompany the joke, knowing that Festus would never intentionally drop someone, but still Nico's eyebrows drew together in an expression of unease.

"It _is_ safe, right?" he said, and Leo shared Festus's twinge of annoyance at being continually referred to as 'it'.

"Of course he's safe. Way improved since the first model—trust me, you'll love it. Imagine having your own personal seats on top of a jet plane flying at cruising speed. It's awesome." Leo grinned, until he noticed that Nico had paled at the description, his fingers just barely tightening around his arms. Realization struck Leo and he asked, "Are you afraid of flying?"

"No," Nico responded a little too quickly, eyes still trained sideways on Festus. "I'm just… more comfortable with my feet on the ground. Or _under _the ground."

Leo forced himself not to laugh. From what he knew of Nico di Angelo, the guy wasn't scared of _anything_. "You're afraid of flying." It wasn't a question that time. Nico glared at him, a scowl taking over his features, and Leo held up his hands. "Hey, it's okay. Look, just trust me, alright? There's nothing to worry about. I wouldn't have volunteered Festus for the flight if I didn't think he could handle it." His serious tone seemed to placate Nico and he visibly relaxed a bit, though he still eyed the dragon with a touch of apprehension.

"What were you saying about the mission being totally screwed?" Nico asked, probably in an attempt to change the subject. He picked up a remote for some contraption or another from the worktable beside him and flipped it absently in his hands.

"Oh, that," Leo said lamely, trying to come up with an excuse. In the end, he decided on a part-truth and explained, "I meant Reyna. I don't know if you've noticed, but she and I don't exactly see eye to eye. Probably started when that eidolon possessed me last year and had me inadvertently declare war on her."

"She's… tough to get close to, I'll give you that," Nico replied. "But she's also dedicated. Long as we don't do anything to tick her off, she'll be a big help on this trip."

"Easier said than done," Leo pointed out, knowing that he'd already done enough to tick Reyna off. Not to mention the fact that she'd been even more on edge since the lunar eclipse—not that she didn't have a right to be. She'd lost a number of her friends and been thrown into a war all on the same night. All things considered, she was handling it very well.

"She knows how important this is," Nico said, his voice turning grave. "We all do. I know I'm usually the last person to say this, but we _have_ to work together. If we don't… we won't have a chance of making it back."

Leo glanced over at Nico as the son of Hades stared hard at the floor, his expression stony. He thought of the promise he'd made Hazel to look after Nico and make sure he made it home, and a metallic sort of resolve dripped through him like molten steel. If Reyna didn't want to talk about whatever spark did or didn't exist between them, then he wouldn't talk about it either. But he wouldn't take her distant avoidance anymore. Like Nico said, they needed to work like a team. He was determined to keep that promise to Hazel, and if returning things with Reyna to normal was the way to do it, then so be it.

"I guess that settles it," Leo said matter-of-factly, stretching his arms out in front of him. "I mean, I don't know about you, but I'm not planning on dying on this quest." Nico looked up with a humorless smirk, which Leo took to mean that he felt the same. "Anyway, time's almost up. I'm gonna head up to the mess hall and grab some last-minute grub." He grinned and gestured to Festus, who opened his mouth and clicked excitedly. "Want a lift?"

Nico's smirk vanished. "I'll walk," he said shortly.

"Suit yourself." Leo climbed onto the front-most of the four built-in seats atop the dragon's back, not bothering to strap himself in. They weren't going far. "Meet you at go-time."

-ψ-ψ-ψ-

They had compromised the light deficit situation by moving some of the fixtures from the cabin area to cover the dining pavilion while Leo and the other Hephaestus kids worked on a more permanent solution, which resulted in a slightly dim atmosphere over both locations. Leo had planned on grabbing a quick bite to eat and getting a move on, but when he reached the mess hall that evening something caught his eye—a certain person sitting alone at a table and picking uninterestedly at a plate of spaghetti and meatballs. After a brief moment of indecision, Leo snatched up a plate of pizza and a glass of water and made a beeline for the table, deciding to try and fix one more thing before he left.

With that in mind, he set his food down and dropped onto the bench, saying flatly and without pretext, "We need to talk."

Jason looked up from his untouched dinner. "Are you breaking up with me?" he asked dully.

Leo sighed. "First of all, if you're gonna make a joke, you have to put your heart into it. Some fake tears, the big, pouty, blue eyes, _something_."

The corner of Jason's mouth lifted in something between a smile and a smirk. "Sorry," he replied in the same monotonous voice. "I forgot I was talking to the master."

There was something vaguely offensive about his tone, but Leo brushed it off and said, "Thank you. And second of all…" He paused, letting his voice and his expression grow serious. "I'm not the one you need to worry about breaking up with you." Jason looked up and met Leo's eyes, his eyebrows angling in an expression of mild anxiety. With a pointed look, Leo added, "I take it by your stunned silence that you know what I'm talking about."

"Yeah," Jason admitted unnecessarily, tired, bloodshot eyes falling back to his spaghetti. Leo felt a twinge of sympathy for how worn out his friend looked. He understood how hard it must have been for Jason to lose such a substantial chunk of Camp Jupiter, but at the same time it was frustrating to watch him give up so completely.

"Well?" Leo said sharply when he realized no other response was forthcoming. "Are you gonna do something about it?"

"Why should I?" Jason said with a shrug, defeat in his voice. "I don't deserve—"

"Oh, don't start that again," Leo interrupted irritably. "I'm sick of you moping around feeling sorry for yourself. Have you even noticed that the whole camp has started avoiding you? You're like a freakin' raincloud, man. And that's impressive, considering we're all living in an eternal night already."

"Whatever." A touch of indignation had entered Jason's voice, which Leo supposed was a good thing. Any emotion had to be better than none at all. "You just don't get it."

"No, I don't get it," Leo agreed with a frown. "How 'bout you explain it to me? Tell me why you've turned into this… shell of a person. You used to be a leader, didn't you? What happened to that guy?"

"He let a hundred and fifty people die!" Jason snapped, eyes darting up to meet Leo's. "A leader? All he did was lead them to an early grave. He was weak, and he failed."

"So _what?_ Everybody screws up sometimes. That doesn't mean you have to shut all your friends out."

Jason's eyes suddenly hardened. "You have _no_ right to lecture me about shutting people out, Leo."

Leo stared at Jason, feeling like he'd been slapped in the face. A lump formed in his throat when he realized that Jason was right. Of all people, who was he to scold someone for distancing themselves from others? Wasn't that what he did on a daily basis? He tried to convince himself that it was different, but when it came down to it, the only real difference was that Leo lied about what was bothering him while Jason didn't. Honest to a fault, the son of Jupiter couldn't hide when he was hurting and angry. And maybe that made him come off as weak and self-pitying, but it only made Leo a liar. And try as he might to believe that his way was better, he knew it only made him that much worse.

After a long minute, Leo swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Talk to Piper," he said stiffly. He couldn't refute Jason's argument, so he decided not to bother trying. "You guys need each other."

Jason gave a humorless, self-deprecating smirk, shaking his head at his still-untouched spaghetti. "No one needs me," was all he said.

Every cell in Leo's body screamed with frustration. He wondered briefly if this was how Piper felt when she tried to talk to Jason and his respect for her heightened. "We're in a _war_, man," Leo pointed out, gesturing to the general air around him. "Yeah, we messed up. People died. It sucks. I'm not saying you should get over it, but if you don't change your attitude, you're just gonna get more people killed."

"See? You know it was me who got them killed."

Leo scowled. "You know that's not what I—"

"Why are you here, Leo?" Jason interrupted with a pained sort of look, like the conversation was physically hurting him.

Leo met Jason's eyes and said firmly, "Because I'm your friend."

"Really?" There was an obvious skepticism in Jason's voice that made Leo frown in mild confusion. "Friends are supposed to be there for each other. You shut me out a long time ago. Now I'm just returning the favor."

"I'm _trying_ to be there for you," Leo argued. "Look, I'm leaving soon, okay? I just wanted to try and fix things before I—"

"Right. Because that's what a repair man does, isn't it? Fix stuff without getting attached."

A little stunned, Leo opened his mouth but could think of nothing to say. Had Jason always thought of him that way, or was it just his anger and frustration doing the talking? He sincerely hoped it was the latter, but some part of him knew that somewhere, Jason had a point. Leo had spent most of his life running away, avoiding attachment. This time, he'd made the decision to stop—to stay at Camp Half-Blood and devote his time to protecting it. But that didn't change the fact that running and hiding were in his nature, even if now he was doing it differently.

"What, now you're speechless?" Jason said when Leo didn't respond. "That's a first." Oddly, there was no venom or even sarcasm in his voice. It was just dull and tired. "I get what you want, okay? But just give it up. You and Reyna are going on this big, heroic quest to save the world while I stay here and try not to get everybody else killed. It's what I get for letting so many people down, I get it. It should be me going on that quest. It could've been my only chance to fix what I messed up."

Leo shook his head. "But if you went, then—"

"We would've failed, I know."

Leo had to fight the urge to groan out loud. He was tired of Jason cutting him off and refusing to listen. He'd been about to say that if Jason went away, he'd lose the chance to make up with Piper and everyone else. He needed to be at camp. There was so much that only he could do, but he just didn't seem to get that. "Would you cut that out? That's not what I was—"

"I think your 'fixing' is having the opposite effect," Jason interrupted yet again, a tiny hint of irritation in his voice. "Just get going, Leo. Go be a hero and save everyone, like I couldn't do. Then come back and remind me again. Or, you know what—maybe you shouldn't bother coming back at all."

Jason might as well have punched Leo in the gut, because those words seemed to have the exact same effect. Was Jason really _that_ angry with him? _No,_ he told himself, though his mind's voice was a bit weak. _He's not mad at me. He's mad at himself. If I give up on him now, it'll be way too late to fix anything._

"I've got to go," Jason said abruptly, gathering his uneaten dinner in his hands. He stood up so forcefully he shoved the table away from him and the opposite edge slammed against Leo's stomach. He swallowed a pained grunt and got to his feet, darting out to intercept his friend as he started toward the east end of the open pavilion.

"Would you just listen to me?" he demanded, but Jason ignored him and instead swept wordlessly past him, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Leo spun around. "Jason. Hey!" He stalked forward just as Jason finally wheeled around. He barely caught the angry look in his friend's eyes before they collided—and the entirety of Jason's uneaten plate of spaghetti and full glass of orange juice tipped and spilled down the front of Leo's clothes.

Leo yelped and staggered backward, lifting his arms as juice and marinara sauce soaked through his shirt and seeped over his jeans. Most of the noodles slid and piled on the floor, but a handful stuck in the sauce so that it looked like a small colony of worms had found a home on his chest. The ceramic plate smashed to pieces on the floor as silence fell in the hall, and for a minute Leo stared at the mess as though he wasn't sure how it had happened. When he slowly raised his head, he saw that Jason was watching with a strange mix of emotion on his face. Anger still sparked in his eyes, but they'd widened with a hint of surprise and regret.

"I'm s…" Jason started, but his voice trailed off as he met Leo's gaze. His mouth closed tightly and, without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away.

As Leo watched him go, he realized that his impromptu spaghetti bath had gotten the attention of everyone else in the mess hall, and now a few dozen faces were staring at him in shock. Normally, he didn't mind being the center of attention. But this time, predictably, he was less inclined toward the spotlight. Part of him was glad that no one was laughing, but another part wished they would. Maybe it would lessen the discomfort.

"You okay?" a female voice asked just to Leo's right. He turned his head to see tan skin, messy brown hair under a red bandanna, and concerned, hazel eyes. Nyssa.

"Yeah," Leo answered shortly, still feeling slightly stunned. "Fine. I just… I have to go." He should've made a joke and laughed the whole thing off, but for some reason his usual humor wouldn't come. He was suddenly glad he'd be leaving camp in less than half an hour—if he stayed, he'd be facing an impressive amount of uncomfortable questions.

Without waiting for a response, he stepped over the pile of noodles, meatballs, and broken glass on the floor and walked quickly out of the mess hall, juice and sauce now soaking through to his skin. He realized halfway that he'd left without finishing his own dinner, but oddly enough it didn't matter. He suddenly wasn't hungry anymore.

* * *

**If there's a name for the Leo/Jason ship, I will literally cry if it's not "Greased Lightning". Just gonna throw that out there.**

**Anyway, drama, drama, and more drama! Fun, huh? I think so, at any rate. I love long, drawn-out conflicts with happy endings - if that's an indication of most of my writing, haha.**

**So drop me a review on your way out, and I'll see you all on Friday for the start of our quest! Later days!**

**-oMM**


	9. IX Leo

**Happy Friday, gang! If anyone's interested, I added a section to my profile that's tracking my progress with all my ongoing stories. Check it out if you'd like to see where I'm at with this, or if you're reading Fire at Will. But as for right now, ready to start the quest? Then heeeeere we go!**

**Thanks to everybody who reviewed earlier this week. Enjoy!**

* * *

**IX  
LEO**

Leo was supposed to meet Reyna and Nico on the hill near Peleus's tree at 7:00 P.M., but after his encounter with Jason at the mess hall he decided to head back to his cabin to wash up before setting out. He figured his traveling companions would rather he be a few minutes late than show up on time smelling like citrus and marinara.

Predictably, he got quite a few questions and jibes on his way across the camp, and he did his best to meet them with a joke and a smile layered over some stupid excuse as to why he was wearing dinner instead of eating it. A mistake. A mix-up. A clumsy accident. And it had been, hadn't it? It wasn't as though Jason had thrown the plate at him on purpose. The fact that he'd started to apologize was evidence enough of that. But the fact that he never _finished_ apologizing was evidence that even though he hadn't meant to, he didn't feel all that bad. And what did that mean for them? Jason had been acting so different lately that it had long since started to worry Leo (among his other friends), but now he was afraid there wouldn't be any going back. Some of the things Jason had said to him seemed like nothing he would ever say under normal circumstances. If he was really that far gone, then… Leo really hoped Piper would be able to get through to Jason somehow while he and the others were away. Something told him she was the only one with any chance.

After a quick shower and change of clothes, Leo met Festus in the grass outside the cluster of cabins and the two of them set off for the meeting place. Nico and Reyna were already there, as well as a small host of people stopping by to see them off—Piper, Hazel, Annabeth, Percy, and—strangely—Octavian. Unsurprisingly, Piper was first to spot Leo and wave him over. Also unsurprisingly, Jason was nowhere to be seen.

"About time," Nico said, though there was no real irritation in his voice. "We were getting ready to leave without you."

Leo smirked. "That would've been impressive, considering you didn't have this guy." He patted the side of Festus's snout and the dragon nipped at his arm affectionately.

"Let's just get this over with," Nico replied, eyeing Festus somewhat nervously. Leo opened the dragon's rear storage compartment so Nico and Reyna could deposit their things. Nico kept his iron sword belted at his side, and Reyna chose to hold onto her dagger. Other than that, everything was packed safely away.

When they were done, Octavian stepped toward Reyna and said, "You're doing the right thing, leaving me in charge. I promise—"

"As I said," Reyna interrupted him sharply, eyes flashing, "you are not _'in charge'_." Leo raised his eyebrows as he watched the exchange, wondering why on earth Reyna would leave Octavian in any position of authority. She must have seen something in him that no one else did. "You will be filling in as substitute praetor in my place, but no decisions can be made without first consulting Jason. You and he are in charge _together_. Do _not_ go claiming that I've left the Legion in your hands alone."

"You may as well have," Octavian shot back, crossing his arms, and Leo hated the part of himself that agreed with the augur. "In case you haven't noticed, Jason hasn't exactly been the most active of leaders lately."

"I don't care. Do _nothing_ without his assent."

Octavian looked like he wanted to argue, but Percy took that time to cut in, "Don't worry, Reyna. We'll make sure he doesn't go on a crazy power trip." Octavian glowered at him, and Percy shot back a steely sort of smile in response. Surprisingly, the augur didn't say another word, and Reyna offered a curt nod in agreement.

Hazel stepped forward and hugged Nico tightly, saying in a firm voice, "Be careful. All of you."

"This mission is no walk in the park," Annabeth pointed out, her expression serious. "Remember what Chiron said—if you get into trouble, back out. We'd rather lose the advantage than lose any of you. I know this could change everything, but it's not worth it if—"

"Annabeth, I think they get it," Percy cut her off gently, draping an arm around her shoulders. She bit her lip anxiously, falling silent, and Percy turned to face the others. He grinned, but Leo couldn't help noticing that it was somewhat forced. "Kick some tail, guys," he said. "We'll be rooting for you."

"Back at you," Leo responded, before Piper came up and pulled him into a hug.

"Good luck," she said, raising her voice so they all would hear.

Leo held onto her and muttered in her ear, "Remember what I said." His gut told him she was the only one who could get through to Jason, but for that to happen she had to be willing to try. He felt her nod in response and a tickle of relief spread through him. Maybe things would get better before they returned.

At last, Reyna turned toward Nico and Leo. "We should set out. We're behind schedule enough as it is."

"Aye-aye, captain," Leo said with an exaggerated salute. Reyna shot him a slight frown and he grinned, sticking to his decision to try and return things as closely to normal as possible. Her gaze softened and she returned the smallest of smiles, which Leo found promising—though she was sure to take the third seat back once they'd climbed atop the mechanical dragon, placing deliberate distance between them. _Oh, well_, Leo thought. _You win some, you lose some_.

Once they'd all strapped in, Leo tapped the back of Festus's neck and the dragon stood on its bulky legs, the creaking sound of metal shifting against metal echoing in the evening air. Festus shook his massive head back and forth, stretching his neck, and spread and contracted his bronze wings, almost taking off Octavian's head in the process.

"Ready?" Leo asked the two behind him, shooting a grin over his shoulder.

Nico winced and said, "No."

"Let's go," was Reyna's response.

Deciding that was the best he was going to get, Leo spun back around and rapped his knuckles lightly against the base of Festus's neck, leaning forward. "Alright, buddy," he said, exhilaration starting to flood his veins. "Let's hit the sky."

Festus opened his jaws and loosed a loud, mechanical roar that made everyone but Leo throw their hands over their ears. Then he reared back on his legs, spread his wings, and leapt into the air, soaring high above the camp. In a matter of seconds, Leo could no longer make out the forms of the people below and the buildings were reduced to tiny black dots, layers of shadow over shadow.

As they glided away from Long Island, he almost didn't believe this was real. Flashes of the first quest he'd ever been on sprang up behind his eyes—the winter solstice a year and a half ago when he, Jason, and Piper had set out to rescue the goddess Hera. That was barely a day after he'd first found Festus in the woods, and now leaving camp with him again brought Leo a powerful surge of nostalgia. Ever since the dragon had been shot down in Omaha, Nebraska during that very same journey, Leo had made it his strong, personal goal to one day rebuild Festus to the magnificent creature he'd been—maybe even something better. That goal had been put on hold during the Giant War, but as soon as Gaea was gone Leo threw every free minute into working on the automaton dragon. He and his half-siblings had even built a new warehouse in the bunker for just that purpose. It had taken a long time, but with the help of the Archimedes sphere he'd swiped in Rome last summer, a gigantic heap of excavated bronze metal, and every possible instrument his magic tool belt had to offer, he was finally able to do it. Festus was back, and better than ever. And despite the dire severity of the trip he, Reyna, and Nico had volunteered for, Leo couldn't help at least a little excitement.

"This isn't as bad as I thought it'd be," Nico said from behind Leo, and he twisted in his seat to see him leaning sideways and looking down toward the ground far below. "All I can see is darkness."

"You should feel right at home, then," Leo joked. When Nico turned to glare at him, he grinned and said, "Sorry, kidding. But what'd I tell you? Nothing to worry about."

Nico's eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch as he studied Leo, and Leo suddenly felt a jolt of self-consciousness. What was he looking at? "Can this thing fly on its own, or are you controlling it somehow?" Nico asked.

"He's not completely self-sustaining," Leo answered, "but he's got a built-in navigation system and temporary auto-pilot feature so I'm allowed to relax a little. Can you imagine how much this would suck if I had to keep my foot on a gas pedal?"

"Well, if that's the case," Nico went on, not responding to the attempt at humor, "don't you think you should try to get some sleep while you can? You look like you just floated out of the Styx."

Leo tried not to scowl. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd slept—three days ago? Four? What bothered him more was that it was really that obvious. "Look who's talking," he said to Nico in an attempt to diffuse the conversation.

Nico only shrugged. "I always look like this. It's genetic." Then his eyes grew serious and he added, "Remember what I said about working as a team. No offense, but I don't trust someone as obviously exhausted as you watching my back."

"Yeah, yeah." Leo shifted back around in his seat and stared at the bronze plating of Festus's neck, knowing that Nico had a point. Now that they were in the air and the adrenaline was fading from Leo's body, his muscles had started to sag like weights had been tied around his limbs. He really _was_ exhausted, and could do with even a few hours of sleep. But anymore, more than half of his restful nights were dotted with visions of that same nightmare, and he didn't exactly relish the idea of seeing it now, when he was over fifteen thousand feet in the air.

Still, the more rational part of his brain insisted that he needed rest if he was going to be any use to the others on this trip, and besides there was always a chance the dream would leave him alone for a little while. Maybe being away from camp with an important task would help get his mind off his own troubles and he could sleep peacefully. Either way, he supposed it was worth a try, if only to replenish some of his lost energy. And by the time he gave in and leaned forward against the warm metal of Festus's neck, his eyes were already drooping.

Miraculously, Leo achieved a whopping three and a half hours of uninterrupted sleep before the dream decided it was done letting him off easy.

He never saw how the fire started. Not once. All he could ever remember was standing in some shadowy void while cackling, black and blue flames gnawed at his skin like hungry predators. He had no sense of time or location; all of his senses were focused only on the pain and the fear. He could feel the shadow of death breathing scalding air down the back of his neck. He wanted to run—to scream, to cry, to _wake up_. But no matter how loudly his mind yelled and pounded the inside of his skull, his body was too weak and agonized to obey.

"_Nothing can stop the flame of Night." _A woman's voice—Nyx. Cold like ice despite the burning heat of her dark fire. Her white-gold eyes shone through the flickering tongues of darkness, laughter in her gaze. Letting out an angry scream that scraped his throat raw, Leo staggered toward her through the fire. After three steps his legs gave out and he collapsed to his knees, slamming his fists against the dark, invisible floor. He tried to breathe, but only ash entered his lungs.

"_Burn, little hero,"_ Nyx said from above him, her voice chilly and soft like a deathly lullaby. _"Burn!"_

"Leo!"

Leo's eyes snapped open and for a second he could swear Festus was covered in black fire. But then the horrifying illusion faded, and he was staring at the metallic bronze surface of the dragon's neck.

"Leo, hey! You okay?"

Leo shoved away the sound of Nyx's voice. Nico. It was Nico talking. Not her. "What…?" he finally muttered, strangely out of breath as though he'd just run all four legs of a relay race.

"You just… you were _smoking_," Nico explained, sounding alarmed. "I thought it was the dragon at first. I was gonna wake you up, but then you screamed like you were being tortured. What the heck happened?"

Leo twisted around to see that both Nico and Reyna were staring at him with wide eyes and looks of surprised concern. With difficulty, he shook his head, trying to forcibly calm his fried nerves. "Nothing. I just… A dream. It was a dream. That's all." He knew he probably sounded like a total idiot. Had he really been yelling in his sleep and giving off smoke? If that was true, it was a good thing he woke up when he did. He didn't think his traveling companions would appreciate any spontaneous combustions mid-flight.

"A dream," Reyna repeated with a frown. When Leo met her gaze, he got the feeling she was seeing into his mind—just like the night he'd told her about the first dream. Could she tell it was the same one now?

"Yeah, nothing to worry about," Leo said, feeling his body finally relax as the last images of the nightmare faded. He gave Nico and Reyna a reassuring grin and added, "Sorry for freaking you guys out. Great start to the trip, huh?"

Reyna continued to frown at Leo as Nico smirked and shook his head, saying dryly, "I swear, if you catch me on fire, I'm gonna kill you."

"Consider me warned," Leo replied. He shifted back around in his seat and stretched his arms. "How long was I asleep?"

"A few hours," Reyna answered from the back. "We were actually just discussing whether we should rest as well when you—" She broke off suddenly as the loud sound of creaking metal interrupted and Festus's wings stretched flat, his body angling into a forward dive.

"What the—?" Nico said in surprise.

"Uh, buddy?" Leo called to the dragon, tapping a hand against his bronze back. "This really isn't the time to be showing off. We've got a schedule to keep." The sinking feeling of dread that had begun to form in Leo's gut intensified when Festus's only response was to increase the angle of his dive, picking up speed with every passing second. The darkness whipped past like a sheet, and Leo had to throw an arm in front of his face to shield his eyes from the wind.

Gritting his teeth, Leo leaned forward and slid his fingers under the exposed lip of a bronze plate at the base of the dragon's neck. A thin section popped open to reveal the automaton's control panel—a complicated switchboard surrounded by an array of colored wires. He'd had to rebuild the entire system from scratch, which was the main reason no one could fly the dragon but him. He was the only one who knew instinctively how his own mind worked.

The altimeter and pressure gauges were dropping at an alarming rate, but from what Leo could see the drive looked to be in perfect working order. If the power converter had somehow failed, an alert would be visible from the control panel. But amazingly, everything looked fine. The system hadn't even shut down. If Leo didn't know any better, he would say the only possibility was that Festus was accelerating toward the ground _on purpose_.

"Festus, what are you doing?" Leo shouted, pounding on the dragon's neck so hard he probably bruised his knuckles. But still, Festus didn't respond.

"Leo...!" Nico yelled warningly over the sound of the wind.

Panic welling up inside him, Leo shot the others a helpless look over his shoulder. "Hang on, guys!" he called back. "I think we're going down!"

* * *

**Not a good way to start a quest, huh? But woo! A cliffie! My favorite way to end a chapter. Especially when we switch POVs next chapter, heh heh. Don't worry, though—you may not have to wait as long as you think to see what happens here. That being said, any guesses who the fourth and final POV narrator will be? Here's a hint for those of you who know me a bit better—it's my absolute favorite PJO/HoO character ;)**

**Leave me a review and we'll find out soon! Later days!**

**-oMM**


	10. X Nico

**Hi, gang! Tuesday again :) Thanks as always to everybody who reviewed last chapter (I know you guys love my cliffhangers, don't even try to deny it). So let's all give a warm welcome to my fourth and final (and a bit unorthodox) POV narrator, and on we go! Enjoy!**

* * *

**X  
NICO**

The good news: When the world is completely covered in darkness, you can use shadow-travel pretty much anywhere. The bad news: Shadow-traveling while falling through the air at terminal velocity is _freaking hard_.

No sooner had the words 'going down' left Leo's mouth than Nico had twisted in his seat and made a grab for each of the people on either side of him with only one goal in mind: _get out of that dive._ 'Hang on'? Yeah, right. No way was he sticking around to see if the dragon decided to abandon its apparent suicide mission. There were plenty of ways to die that were higher on his list than a fatal nosedive strapped to the back of a sixty-foot kamikaze metal reptile.

The instant Nico was sure his grip on Leo and Reyna was strong enough, he squeezed his eyes shut and jerked his body backward, trying to mentally gauge the distance between them and the ground below (which was extremely difficult considering their speeding velocity). He visualized a shadowy rope tying him to where he wanted to be as the darkness closed in around them and he felt the pressure of the harness belting him to the falling mechanical dragon vanish. The whipping shadows tried to wrench Leo and Reyna from Nico's grasp, but he held on, and a second later the darkness thinned and they fell the remaining four or five feet to a hard, uneven ground.

Nico pushed himself up on his hands and spat out a mouthful of dirt, wincing at the new bruise on his side where the hilt of his sword had poked him hard during the short fall. The low buzzing in the back of his head had intensified a bit, but he ignored it. Ever since Erebos had risen and the war had begun, it had been there—a dull, whispering ache between his ears that just wouldn't go away. The buzzing was his death sense, which seemed to be locked in the _ON_ position with so much madness running wild all over the world. The headache, he knew, was more complicated. The balance between life and death was off-kilter, the border between the human world and the Underworld skewed almost beyond recognition. Now, Nico had a feeling that was because the gods—including Thanatos, the god of death—were held prisoner and locked in slumber. Souls both human and monster alike were swerving back and forth across the border, which was never meant to happen. So naturally, he was the one suffering for it.

"What the—what just happened? Where's Festus?"

Looking up, Nico saw that Leo was running back and forth frantically, his neck craned farther back than should have been humanly possible. "What the heck just—?"

"Would you chill out?" Nico interrupted sharply. Panicking wasn't going to get them anywhere. He glanced around briefly and realized they were in a hilly forest, surrounded by trees. "We're on the ground, should be just below where we were. Sorry I didn't give you a warning, but you said it yourself—we were going down. _Somebody_ had to get us out of there."

Leo turned and fixed wide, anxious eyes on Nico. "What about Festus?" Nico had barely gotten to his feet before Leo charged in and grabbed the front of his shirt, demanding, "You didn't _leave him_, did you?"

"Have you ever tried shadow-traveling mid-freefall?" Nico shot back, irritated. "It was hard enough just grabbing you two! How the heck was I supposed to drag along a ten-ton hunk of metal? I'm not friggin' Superman!"

"Calm down, both of you," Reyna cut in, climbing to her feet and brushing dirt from her clothes. "Nico acted quickly and very well might have saved our lives, but this isn't the time for arguing about it. Leo, what happened up there?"

"I don't know," Leo said, letting go of Nico and sounding a bit dumbfounded. "He was working fine. Really, I swear. It was like—" He broke off suddenly as a deafening sound of splintering wood rose from somewhere nearby, followed by the creak of metal and a dull _boom_ that shook the ground and made them all stumble. Leo's eyes widened like he'd been stabbed in the stomach. "Aw, no, no, no, no, no," he muttered quickly before turning on his heel and dashing off toward the sounds.

"Wait!" Reyna called after him, and she and Nico exchanged stricken glances before following. They didn't have to go far before they found what they were looking for.

The dragon must have decided to pull out of its dive at the last minute—or, at the very least, slow it down—because the damage wasn't quite as bad as expected. It was still in one piece, albeit one piece that was heavily dented and completely caked with dirt and leaves. Its neck was bent at an odd angle and its wings were crinkled like paper. Oil was streaming from a tear in its hide and another across its snout. One eye was dull and colorless, while the red light in the other was dim and flickering.

The automaton may have survived the crash, but that was more than anyone could say for the surrounding bit of forest. At least a score of trees had been knocked down or broken in half. Huge splinters stuck up in all directions. A deep, mucky trench stretched out behind the dragon's flank where it had dragged across the ground, a few oversized branches flattened in the dirt at the bottom of it. Nico sincerely hoped there was no one around, because the chances of all this going unnoticed weren't exactly favorable.

By the time Nico and Reyna pushed through the wreckage, Leo had already circled the dragon a few times, assessing the damage with a frantic expression and mumbling, "Okay, that's salvageable. This could have been worse. At least that's still in-tact. Where am I gonna find another one of _those_?"

Reyna huffed, crossing her arms as she took in the scene. "So can you fix it?" she called.

Leo leaned up from behind the dragon's neck, his hands already grimy with oil. "I think so," he replied, serious eyes studying the automaton. "But it'll take some time. Might set us back a few hours."

"Great," Nico grumbled, leaning his back against a nearby unbroken tree. "Wonder where we are, anyway…"

"Indiana," Reyna said at once, and both Nico and Leo shot her incredulous looks.

"How do you know that?" Leo asked.

She rolled her eyes and nodded toward a nearby pile of broken wood. Nico saw a hint of color and stepped forward to see that half-buried in a mess of splinters was some kind of cracked, wooden sign. Beneath the dirt, he could barely make out the words _'Welcome to the Hoosier National Forest' _and below that _'Charles C. Deam Wilderness Area. 12,935 Acres. Lawrence County, Indiana.'_

"Oh," Leo said lamely.

With a groan, Nico added, "We're still a long way from Death Valley. We'd better get moving again as soon as possible."

"Assuming it's safe to take the dragon," Reyna pointed out.

Leo seemed to tense, but he didn't turn on Reyna. Instead, he climbed onto the automaton's neck and lifted some sort of panel on its back, eyes studying whatever lay beneath it. "I can't figure out what went wrong," he said, sounding frustrated. "Everything was working fine—it still is, aside from the collision damage. He didn't malfunction, I'm sure of it." He sat back, scratching his head at the puzzle he couldn't solve. "It was like… like someone was controlling him from the outside. But that's not possible, so I don't know what—"

"How 'bout a look-back on your definition of 'possible'?"

Nico jumped and blinked at the voice that had come from nowhere before suddenly the darkness over Festus seemed to shimmer. The next thing he knew, standing on the dragon's back was a person—a tall, skinny young man, maybe twenty-three or twenty-four years old. He had short, midnight-blue hair styled into deadly-looking spikes and was dressed like some sort of punk rocker—tight jeans, studded boots, faded leather jacket with sleeves cut off at the shoulders. At least half a dozen belts were wrapped around his hips—some made of chain, some of leather. His arms were covered in tattoos Nico couldn't make out at a distance and were folded across his chest, rows of rope bands tied around his wrists. He was eyeing them all with a smirk that pulled at the twin piercings on his bottom lip, his chin raised in an air of smug amusement.

"Who are _you_?" Nico asked in a less-than-friendly voice, narrowing his eyes at their visitor. This was _not_ what they needed right now.

The man's smirk widened almost to a sneer. "I know you," he said lightly, pointing a finger at Nico and ignoring the question. "You're Hades' kid. Big fan. That whole 'death-sense' thing? Pretty rad, man, I'm sayin'. The doom around you is _way_ whacked-out."

"What…?" Nico stammered, taken aback. He had no idea how to respond to that.

"Wait-wait-wait," Leo cut in. He'd spun around so fast when the guy had appeared that he'd slid off the dragon's neck and onto the ground, and now that he was back on his feet he was staring at the new arrival with wide, accusing eyes. "What did you say before? About 'possible'…" He shook his head, seeming to come to some sort of conclusion. "You can't have… Were _you_ the one that did this?"

"Whooooa," the man said, his dark eyes seeming to light up as he looked over at Leo. "You got a _wicked_ doom-aura, bro. It's all around you, like… like smoke. Or black fire."

A flash of panic crossed Leo's face and he suddenly scrambled backward, almost falling over again. Nico felt a spark of curiosity at his reaction to the seemingly meaningless jibe, but a second later Leo's expression had hardened and he glared at the guy. "D… Don't change the subject. It _was_ you, wasn't it? You crashed my dragon!"

The man chuckled and shifted his weight, and as he did so Nico realized that he wasn't actually _standing_ on Festus's back at all. His feet were floating just a few inches above the metal surface, like he was standing in midair. And not only that, but he didn't seem entirely _there_. His whole body was almost ethereal, just a tiny bit transparent like an almost-developed photograph.

"Who are you?" Nico asked again, though this time his voice was edged with apprehension.

"Been waitin' for some of you to try headin' west from that camp of yours." The guy unfolded his arms and placed both hands on his hips, a dark sort of grin appearing on his face. "Name's Moros. Good to meet ya, demigods."

A chill of dread crept down Nico's spine at the name, stories tickling in his memory. Some sort of recognition must have registered on his face, because Reyna leaned over and asked him, "Who?"

Nico swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Moros," he repeated. "The spirit of doom. If he's here to stop us from going west, then we're… Well…"

"Doomed?" Reyna guessed dryly.

Nico lifted a shoulder, eyes trained on the spirit still smirking evilly at him. "Pretty much."

* * *

**Short, I know. But the next chapter is almost 6,000 words, so there's that to look forward to (to gauge, this one was just under 2,000. Next one's about 3 times as long). Nice and exciting one next time, so just hand tight 'til Friday, okay?**

**How 'bout a review? Love you guys! Later days!**

**-oMM**


	11. XI Nico

**Happy Friday! Whee! I'm in a great mood today, as per Friday-usual :D Enjoy this nice long, exciting chapter, everybody! Thanks for the reviews earlier this week!**

* * *

**XI  
NICO**

The dull ache in Nico's head sharpened as he stared at Moros, trying to recall everything he knew about the spirit. His fingers twitched at his side, but he resisted the urge to draw his sword. "Why are you here?" he demanded. "I thought you were overseeing the sigma division of the Fields of Punishment. How'd you even get out? It's chaos down there." Nico had managed to get into the Underworld only once since the start of the Shadow War, and it hadn't been pretty. Without Hades and Persephone to hold things together, disaster had begun tearing down the careful order that had been in place for so long. Hardly any new souls made it across the border—only the ones that had fully accepted death. Souls from the Fields of Punishment had started to rebel against their overseers, spreading uproar throughout the Underworld. So far none had escaped back to the world of the living—after all, the Doors of Death were shut tight after last summer. But the way things were going, who knew how long that would last.

"I know, ain't it great?" Moros replied, grin widening. "Talk about doom. Man, the world's never felt so awesome. I would'a been happy just watchin' the show downstairs, but you know how it is. When Mother calls, you gotta answer."

"Mother?" Reyna repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Though he had a feeling the others could guess who 'Mother' was, Nico said in a low voice, "Nyx." Moros was another of the Queen of Night's children, just like Hypnos and Thanatos. Though it seemed this son was much more willing to help her out.

"Like I said," Moros went on, absently flicking some dirt from under a ghostly, black-painted fingernail, "I've been waitin' for some of you to head this way. I've had to settle for scarin' squirrels in this boring forest, and it ain't half as rad as scarin' demigods. Though you do tend to squeal the same." His lip curled in a sneer as he chuckled at his own joke, and an intense dislike for the guy swelled in Nico's chest, hardening his face into a scowl.

"So you crashed Festus and almost killed us," Leo said angrily, "for _fun?_"

Moros shrugged. "Not _just_ for fun. It's my job to stop you, you know? Not my fault the job happens to be right up my alley." He pulled his legs up and crossed them beneath him, so he was floating in the air sitting Indian-style. The chains hanging from his belts clinked when he moved. "Whoever said you gotta separate business from pleasure clearly wasn't in the right business."

Leo shook his head, looking mystified and furious at the same time. "I don't get it. How…?"

Moros leaned an elbow on his knee and rested his chin in his hand, grinning at Leo. "Like this," he said, before snapping his fingers. The sound of splintering wood immediately followed and Nico glanced around, searching for its source.

Reyna found it first. "Leo!" she yelled, throwing an arm out and pointing a finger. Nico followed her gaze just as Leo spun around to see a forty-foot tree tipping slowly toward him, picking up speed with each passing millisecond. He yelped in surprise and staggered backward, throwing himself out of the way as the tree crashed to the ground beside the metal dragon, inches away from squashing Leo like a bug.

"Impending doom," Moros said with a smile, looking like the term was music to his ears. "Ain't nothin' gets the blood flowing like it. Not that I've got blood to flow, but you catch my drift." He shrugged and waved off-handedly, as though they were having a perfectly normal conversation. "Anyway," he went on, stretching his arms and legs and returning to a standing position, "how 'bout let's get this show on the road? All this safety is really killing my buzz." Then without warning he snapped his fingers again, and a low, threatening growl sounded from the forest behind them. Nico, Leo, and Reyna spun around as the sound seemed to echo and intensify, joined by a small chorus of others just like it. Tiny pinpricks of light—about a dozen of them—blinked into existence through the darkness, and a chill crawled across Nico's skin as six snarling, gray wolves stepped slowly out from between the trees.

"Now it's a party!" Moros said gleefully, and Nico shot a glance over his shoulder to see the spirit fold his arms and grin. A loud growl brought his attention back to the wolves, all of whom had begun inching toward the trio of demigods with their teeth bared menacingly.

Hand reaching slowly for his sword, Nico started creeping back away from the animals, hoping Leo and Reyna would follow his lead. At the first sudden movement, he had no doubt the wolves would attack, and that would be better left until they had a bit more room to fight back. Thankfully, Leo and Reyna seemed to be thinking along the same lines, and they mirrored Nico's movements. The wolves followed them at the same slow pace, never breaking eye contact and occasionally snapping their jaws at empty air as though practicing a bite. The three had just barely stepped into the trench of loose dirt behind Festus when the lead wolf reared back on its haunches and Nico shouted, "Move!" the instant before it leapt for them.

As the animals all flashed into action, Nico quickly lost track of Leo and Reyna. He dove and rolled to the side as the lead wolf bounded toward him, and it landed in a slide in the dirt, twisting around to growl at him. By then he was back on his feet, turning to swing his sword at the wolf directly to his right. It ducked the blade, surprisingly fast, and lunged forward with open jaws. Nico jerked backward and the animal's teeth snapped closed right where he'd been standing. He sidestepped and swung his sword down, right over the wolf's back—but he stumbled in alarm when the blade swept harmlessly through its body without damaging it at all. He felt a little resistance, like he was slicing through water. But the expected solidity wasn't there. Stranger still, the animal seemed to flicker out of existence for a fraction of a second, like an old movie projection.

"What the—?" Nico stammered, throwing himself backward a few unsteady steps as the wolf turned and swiped at him, its fur appearing perfectly solid again.

"What the heck _are_ these things?" he heard Leo say. Chancing a brief look around, he saw Leo standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Reyna, a heavy-looking staple gun in his hands. Four of the wolves had formed a half-circle around them and were closing in. That was all the time Nico had to take in the scene, though, because the next second both the remaining wolves were on him again, one leaping high from his right and another darting in low from his left.

With a frustrated growl, he turned and jumped over the lower attacker, somersaulting over the dirt and coming up in a crouch. He spun around in time to see a set of deadly-sharp claws springing toward him and he threw up his sword instinctively to block the attack, not sure if it would work. But then he heard a sharp, scraping _clang_ as the wolf's claws scratched the iron surface. The wolf snarled and stepped back, aiming a bite at Nico's legs. He rolled to the side and swung his sword experimentally, clucking his tongue when again it slid harmlessly through the animal's back.

Mind and heart racing, Nico backed away from the pair of wolves, trying to figure out what to do. They must have been some kind of ghosts or spirits, called into being by Moros, because their color kept flickering and fading like they weren't really there. They seemed solid before an attack, and just vaguely transparent after. It didn't appear that they could be hurt, but for that brief instant he'd been able to connect with one. That had to mean something. There _had_ to be a way to fight them. Unfortunately, they didn't seem keen on giving him much time to think of a solution. Not a few seconds later, they both leapt at him again. With little room to dodge, he ducked and stepped to the side, avoiding one animal and facing the other head-on. He swept his sword through the air just as it reached him, aiming to deflect it again, but he was half a second too late. The animal's gray fur seemed to brighten as it growled and its claws connected with Nico's outstretched wrist, tearing a pair of thin, bloody lines down his forearm. But at the same time, the wolf's growl rose in pitch to a wounded howl, and Nico realized that the blade of his sword had sliced cleanly across its neck. It collapsed onto the ground, black dust rising from the cut and disintegrating into the air. Then a second later, the wolf's body dimmed and disappeared like a light going out.

Nico staggered backward, clamping a hand over the cuts on his right arm and staring in shock. He'd beaten one. How had that happened? Every other time he'd struck one of the animals, his blade had passed through it as though it wasn't there. What had been different this time?

A crazy thought struck him as he replayed the scene quickly in his head. He might have figured it out, but he couldn't be sure—not until he tried it again.

As the second wolf leaned back on its haunches, growling more angrily than ever and showing all of its teeth, Nico braced his stance and switched his sword to his left hand, dull spikes of pain shooting up and down his right. He flipped it and swung the blade in a circle, getting used to the grip and waiting for the wolf to make a move. Its dim gray fur flickered and brightened, and when it lunged, he was ready. He dug his feet into the ground and dropped to a crouch, stabbing forward with his sword and—miraculously—burying the iron blade in the wolf's neck. It whined loudly, before fading to darkness.

Now absolutely certain, Nico stood up straight and turned toward Leo and Reyna, shouting, "They're solid right before they strike! Attack then!" Both Leo and Reyna shot glances at him and nodded, and he rushed toward one of the remaining wolves without a second thought. It was risky, waiting until they attacked to fight back. But in order to strike, the animals had to be solid—which also made them vulnerable. Then and only then could they be hurt—and killed.

Watching Leo duck a would-be-fatal slice to the head out of the corner of his eye, Nico dodged in front of one of the wolves, claiming its attention. It stepped to the side and aimed a quick snap of its jaws at his legs, but he jumped backward. It responded quickly by leaping up, its claws shooting too quickly toward his throat, and he lifted his sword to block. He successfully avoided being impaled, but the wolf's weight barreled toward him, tackling him and knocking him to his back on the ground. Still solid, it jerked its open jaws toward his face and he twisted to the side as best he could, slicing his blade across the wolf's front legs in the process. It whimpered, allowing Nico enough room to scoot backward a bit farther out of harm's way.

He was just leaning up from the ground when Reyna called from behind him, "Nico, stay down!" Trusting her, he dropped his shoulders back to the dirt just in time to see her dagger go flying through the air above him, embedding itself in the side of the wolf's head. It howled and disappeared, dropping Reyna's knife to the ground.

Nico was about to turn and thank her when suddenly she gave a strangled yell. He rolled over on the ground and pulled himself up to see that a long, ropy vine from a nearby tree had wrapped itself tightly around her neck like a snake and pulled her to the ground, dragging her across the dirt. She kicked and pulled at the vine, but it didn't seem to be having any effect.

"Reyna!" Leo shouted, and Nico shot him a glance to see that he had evidently disposed of another wolf, leaving only two remaining. Springing to his feet, Nico spun and looked for Moros, only to find him sitting midair above Festus and smiling at them. He shrugged as if to say _'Accidents happen!'_ and Nico threw him a glare before turning back around. A jolt of dread ran through him when he saw that the living vine had lifted Reyna into the air and was dangling her by the neck from a tree branch, at least fifteen feet above the ground.

Nico clucked his tongue anxiously. The two wolves were closing in, and Reyna wouldn't last long in that state. He turned toward the pair of wolves, who were standing together, and headed sideways into their field of vision, sword at the ready. "Leo," he said urgently, "cut the vine!"

"On it," Leo responded immediately, running toward where Reyna was struggling against her leafy captor. Nico quickly ducked and rolled beneath a leap of one wolf and used his sword to deflect a claw-swipe of the other, shoving it to the side. He glanced over as Leo threw what looked like a screwdriver toward the ropy vine holding Reyna and it bounced off, whacking her on the shoulder as it fell back to the ground. "Oops," Leo muttered, wincing.

Nico wanted to smack him. "Are you kidding me?" he yelled. "Burn it!" The guy could summon fire at will, for crying out loud, and he chose to try and break the vine with a _screwdriver?_ What the heck was he thinking?

As Nico blocked another set of claws and tried to strike back, missing his mark, Leo responded dully, "Oh. Right." He raised a hand and his fingers twitched unsteadily. He seemed to hesitate for a brief moment, but before Nico could decide whether or not to yell at him to hurry his expression hardened and he thrust his arm upward, shooting a baseball-sized orb of orange flame into the air. It struck the middle of the vine and burned straight through, dropping Reyna like a sack of flour. Leo darted forward and caught her, dragging them both to the ground and breaking what would have been a nasty fall.

Nico breathed a short sigh of relief as he sidestepped a vicious bite, jabbing his blade into the wolf's shoulder at the same time and causing it to howl and vanish. Not a second later, something heavy slammed into him from behind and he felt the sharp sting of claws digging into his back as he was pushed face-first to the ground. He bit down hard on his tongue to keep from crying out and tried to twist around, but the snarling in his ear was way too close. A feeling of dread—of 'doom', even—washed over him for a brief second, but before the wolf struck a sudden and intense heat burned to life above Nico and he ducked, throwing his hands over his head as the wolf howled in pain. The next instant, the pressure of its paws against his back was gone.

Nico scrambled to his feet and looked around, noticing that all the ghostly animals had disappeared. Reyna was standing nearby, rubbing the bruise on her neck and glaring at Moros. Leo was beside her, wide eyes fixed on the empty air the last wolf had just vanished from. "Thanks," Nico said to him, realizing it must have been him who'd killed it.

Leo blinked as though he'd just realized Nico was there. Then his expression cleared and he grinned. "Don't mention…" He trailed off as his eyes shifted to something over Nico's shoulder and he suddenly yelled, "Hey!"

Nico spun around just in time to see something huge and bronze swinging toward him in a blur before a heavy hunk of metal crashed into him, throwing him off his feet and shoving him into the air. His back collided hard with the trunk of a tree and he slid to the ground, landing on his side and gasping for the breath that had been knocked from his lungs.

"Hey!" Leo yelled again from somewhere off to Nico's right. "Cut it out!"

Nico groaned and rolled over, pushing himself into a sitting position. His entire torso ached like he'd been hit by a bus. Looking up, he realized that the thing that had attacked him had in fact been Festus's tail—probably brought temporarily to life by Moros, who was doubled over in the air, laughing hysterically.

"No way, bro," Moros said when he'd calmed down enough to speak. He stood straight and Nico realized he was holding a flat, metal object the size of a CD in his hands. He flipped it in a circle and said, "You guys are off the rip. This is wicked."

By the time Nico struggled to his feet, Leo and Reyna were beside him. "You good, dude?" Leo asked, his eyes shooting toward Nico before returning to glare at Moros, eyeing the disc in the spirit's hands.

"More or less," Nico replied.

"Okay, 'cause we gotta go."

Nico frowned at Leo. "What?"

Leo turned to face him, his voice low. "I mean run. Lead Moros away from Festus. If that guy screws with him any more, I don't know if I'll get him fixed in time. Or at all." The seriousness in Leo's eyes told Nico he was genuinely worried, so Nico sighed shortly and stood up straight, wincing slightly.

"Alright," he said. "Let's go."

And with that, all three of them turned and bolted through the trees, ignoring Moros's shout of "Where ya goin'? We're just gettin' started!" Nico tried to keep track of Leo and Reyna as they ran, relying more on his senses than his eyes. They weaved through trees and around bushes, over dusty paths and up and down uneven hills. Nico saw Leo veer off to the side and he followed him, hoping Reyna noticed and did the same. After a minute or so, he shot a glance over his shoulder, wondering if Moros had come after them, but of course he couldn't see anything in the dark, and the only sounds were their own feet shuffling through leaves and snapping twigs and branches.

As Nico rounded a tree, Leo suddenly yelled "Whoa!" and skidded to a stop right in front of him, throwing his arms out to either side. Nico stumbled and collided with his back, nearly knocking him over, as Reyna pulled to a stop beside them so quickly she momentarily lost her balance and tipped forward. Leo reached out and snatched her by the shirt, yanking her backward. She twisted to the side and grabbed onto his arms, using them to steady herself, and Nico stepped around Leo to see why he'd stopped so suddenly. He understood at once. Even through the darkness, he could see the steep, rocky hill that dropped off less than two feet in front of them. A few more steps would have sent them tumbling headlong over the edge to the uneven ground fifty feet below.

Once they'd all regained their balance, each of them out of breath from running, Leo gave a nervous laugh. "That was close."

From behind, an amused voice added, "Not close enough," and the trio spun around to see that Moros had indeed followed them. The spirit grinned mischievously and Nico felt his stomach drop in dread, knowing what was about to happen even before Moros lifted a hand and snapped his fingers. Nico tried to take a step but suddenly the ground beneath him felt as slippery as ice, and instead of going forward his feet were swept out from under him and he, Leo, and Reyna slid backward over the crest of the hill, falling with surprised yells onto the steep, rocky incline. Nico tried to reach out and grab onto something as an anchor, but there was nothing to grab. The complete lack of control as he rolled sideways down the hill was maddening, and when the ground finally leveled out he realized he'd been holding his breath the entire time.

With a pained groan, Nico rolled onto his back and sat up, dull jabs of pain shooting through what felt like every inch of his body. The arm he'd injured fighting the wolves was scraped even worse, dirt rubbed into the thin, open cuts in his skin. He felt a sharp pain in his side—broken ribs, probably. Though, for all he knew, that could have happened when he'd been attacked by Festus's tail.

Nico blinked a few times and realized that most of the ache was already subsiding, which luckily meant nothing had been too serious. He climbed shakily to his feet and looked around for the others. Leo was lying on his side close by, so Nico stumbled toward him and said, "Leo, hey. You okay?" When he didn't move, Nico frowned and dropped to a crouch beside him, grabbing his shoulder and pushing him onto his back. He was alive and breathing, though unconscious, and looked okay except for a nasty cut on the side of his head that was trickling blood over his ear. "Aw, man…" Nico muttered under his breath, swallowing a jolt of worry.

A low groan behind Nico had him looking over his shoulder to see Reyna dragging herself into a sitting position, a hand on her head. "Hey," he called to her. "You alright?"

"I'm not dead," she responded wryly, rising to her feet and testing all her limbs. "That's something." She started to stretch her left arm and winced, a hand going to her shoulder. When she stepped over to Nico and Leo, she glanced down and a deep frown covered her dirty face, her eyebrows stitching together apprehensively. "Is he…?"

"He'll be fine," Nico assured her. "But he's not moving anytime soon. We should find Moros before—"

"You buzzed?" an all-too-familiar voice interrupted, and Nico twisted around to see the spirit of doom floating an inch above the ground at the base of the rocky hill he'd just thrown them down. Nico climbed to his feet, picking up his sword, and shot Moros a silent glare, fighting the immense urge to rush in and smack the cocky smirk from the guy's face. "You guys left early," the spirit went on lightly. "Rest of the guests hadn't even showed up yet." A snap of his fingers brought another small host of ghost-wolves into existence on either side of him, and Nico bit back an annoyed groan.

"They're not real," he reminded Reyna, sensing her tense beside him. "We can take 'em."

"Real?" Moros repeated. He studied Nico for a long second, twisting his left lip ring with his tongue, and a cruel grin spread across his face. "You want something real?" he asked, voice low. Then he snapped his fingers again, and unexpectedly the new wolves vanished. For a second or two, nothing else happened.

Somewhere between nervous and irritated, Nico took a step toward Moros. He opened his mouth to throw back a retort but froze as a sharp, searing pain cut through his stomach, killing his voice before it escaped his throat. He glanced down, suddenly afraid the spirit had thrown a knife at him or something, but he looked perfectly fine. He frowned, confused, until the pain spiked, spreading up his chest and tying his insides in tight knots. Crying out through gritted teeth, he staggered backward and doubled over, dropping his sword and wrapping both arms reflexively around his stomach.

"Nico," Reyna said in surprise, appearing beside him. But he could barely focus on her. It felt like tiny shards of rusted metal were crawling slowly up his esophagus, tearing everything in their path. He sank to his knees, then leaned over and coughed violently, vomiting mouthfuls of blood onto the dirt.

"What are you doing to him?" Reyna yelled at Moros, her angry voice dull in Nico's ears. "Stop it!"

"Nah," was Moros's half-hearted reply. "Kid wanted 'real'. Don't get much more 'real' than the last stage of the African Ebola virus." And then he laughed like he'd just made the best joke in the world, and Nico wanted nothing more than to tackle the spirit and punch his lights out. But he could barely breathe, let alone stand. It was like someone had lit a fire inside him and it was burning his organs to ashes. His entire body was shaking. He could feel his strength fading fast, his vision swimming with blinding, colored dots. He lifted his head, which felt like it weight at least six hundred pounds, and threw everything he had into a weak glare at the spirit of doom.

Moros's sneer was positively ecstatic. "You know what the best part is?" he said quietly. "When you can actually see death coming, and there ain't nothing you can do. It's that moment of panic, right before the end." His eyes seemed to glow with excitement as he asked mockingly, "You feel it yet, Nico?"

Hearing the spirit say his name felt like an insult and filled Nico with an intense wave of fury. He wanted to attack the guy—to scream at him, to make him pay _somehow_. But the virus wreaking slow and painful havoc in his body wouldn't let him. His throat had constricted so tightly he could no longer breathe, and he was starting to get lightheaded. The last bit of strength in his arms gave out and he fell to his side on the dirt, the world around him seeming hazy with fog and tinged with blackness. He thought he heard Reyna yell something, but the dull roar in his ears was too deafening to make it out. Even through all the pain, all Nico could feel was anger. He'd known this quest would be dangerous, but he'd at least counted on making it to Death Valley and confronting Nyx. That was supposed to be the hardest part. But here he was, dying of a fatal disease in Indiana, less than 700 miles from home. They hadn't even made it halfway.

And then, all of a sudden, it stopped. His vision cleared; he could breathe again. The pain in his chest and stomach was receding, dulling to a slow, almost ghostly ache. Blinking in mild surprise, Nico pushed himself up on his hands, wincing at the soreness in his limbs. His arms were still shaking, though not as badly as before. It was like everything he'd felt in the last two minutes was being gradually reversed, bringing him back to normal health.

"You alright?" a voice asked sharply, and Nico looked up as Reyna dropped to a crouch beside him.

"I think so," he replied, his voice so rough and gravelly it sounded completely alien. He sat back on the ground and rolled his shoulders experimentally. He still felt weak, but at least he no longer felt like he'd swallowed a vat of hot lava. That had to be a good sign. "What happened? How did you—?"

"He's like the animals," Reyna explained quickly, her eyes rising to search the shadows around them. "He solidifies when he uses magic. I got close enough to injure him and it stopped whatever he was doing to you."

"Clever," Moros's voice said coldly right before he flickered into existence a few yards away. The grin was gone from his face, his expression stony. "But what now? You can't beat doom. Doom always brings death."

Nico didn't like the look in the spirit's dead eyes. "When I tell you," he said to Reyna, his voice low and still sounding annoyingly weak, "grab onto me and don't let go." She frowned a bit, but nodded in understanding and shuffled just a bit closer to him. He shifted his position on the ground so he could reach the spot where Leo still lay unconscious, glowering at Moros all the while.

"You don't get it, do you?" Moros went on, seemingly oblivious. "I _own_ this forest. Nothing gets in without my knowing. And nothing gets out. Period." He took a step closer, boots floating above the uneven ground. "Sorry, dudes, but I—actually, you know, I'm not sorry." He grinned, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "This is gonna be fun."

"NOW!" Nico yelled, before stretching to the side and grabbing Leo's ankle with all the strength he had. The instant he felt Reyna's fingers close around his left arm, he shut his eyes and reached toward the shadows with his mind, picturing his destination as clearly as he could in his head and remembering the welcome sign Festus had crashed into when they'd arrived. He caught the very beginning of Moros's furious scream before all sound disappeared and they were yanked into a tearing whirlwind of blackness.

When the shadows thinned, they found themselves on a grassy hill beneath the open sky. Nico threw his arms out to keep from rolling more than a few feet, feeling the buzzing ache in his head spike to a constant throb. He gritted his teeth and clutched a hand to his head as a small wave of dizziness passed over him and quickly faded.

"You shouldn't have done that," Reyna said seriously, fixing Nico with a pointed look from where she sat on the grass. "You were already hurt."

"When are you guys gonna learn that I can handle more than you think I can?" Nico shot back, not angry with her so much as irritated by the situation and sick of his headache. "Just because I _look_ weak doesn't mean I _am_."

Reyna breathed out shortly, giving up the argument. Instead, she stood and looked around. "Where are we?"

"Outside the forest," Nico answered. He sat up straight and rested his arms on his knees, eyes going to the line of trees a half-mile or so in the distance. "A little farther than I aimed for, but I'll take it."

"How'd you know where to go?"

"The welcome sign. It said this section of the reserve was just under thirteen thousand acres."

Reyna raised her eyebrows, for a second looking mildly impressed. Then she trudged past Nico and knelt beside Leo, examining the cut above his ear. "You don't have any ambrosia, do you?"

Nico shook his head with a heavy sigh, thinking they could all use some god-food right about now. "Not on me. Everything's back with the dragon."

Reyna scowled in disappointment, brushing her fingers through Leo's hair. He groaned suddenly, his face contorting in a grimace, and Reyna jerked her hand away like she'd been burned. Leo shifted his arms without opening his eyes and started to sit up, but Nico said shortly, "Don't. I don't think you wanna move just yet."

He'd barely finished the sentence before Leo grunted in pain and dropped back to the ground, a hand going to his head. "Don't gotta tell me twice," he muttered hoarsely, and when he finally opened his eyes they looked a bit dull and cloudy. "What happened? Where's the rocker dude?"

"In the forest," Nico answered. He absently pulled a handful of grass from the dirt and started tearing the blades apart as a way to try and alleviate some of his frustration. "We're safe for now."

"Not for long, though," Reyna said gravely. She sat back behind Leo and her eyes surveyed him carefully. "We can't stay out here. We've got to get back to the dragon so we can get moving. There has to be a way through the forest that Moros can't see, a way to get by him somehow."

Leo gave a noncommittal grunt in response, and Nico didn't answer. He knew she was right; they would need to return somehow. But if what Moros said was true, he would know as soon as they reentered the forest. And chances were he wasn't lying. He had been in charge of overseeing one of the deeper and more dangerous sections of the Fields of Punishment. All of its overseers had boundary senses in case someone tried to escape or cross divisions. It made sense that if he set this region of the Hoosier National Forest as his new domain, the same principle would apply. It was frustrating, the more Nico thought about it. Moros wasn't a god; he was a spirit—the soul of a long-since-dead demigod who'd been given unnatural power after his life had ended. And yet here he was, toying with them like he was some—

Nico's train of thought screeched to a halt. Moros was a spirit, a soul. He didn't belong on earth. He belonged in the Underworld. That meant that maybe—just maybe—they could force him back.

"What's wrong?" Reyna asked in a sharp tone, frowning at the look on Nico's face.

"We can't escape him," he said, staring at the ground in front of him as his mind began to formulate a plan. "We need to lure him out."

"You're not serious," Leo argued. "That guy's a nutcase. Way too crazy and powerful to—"

"To fight, yeah. But we aren't gonna fight him." He glanced sideways at the others and explained, "We're gonna banish him back to the Underworld."

Reyna's eyebrows shot up. "How? With the god of death asleep, we haven't been able kill things very effectively. How could that possibly work?"

"Because Moros is already dead," Nico pointed out. "It's not the same. Thanatos' absence keeps new souls from crossing over unless they want to, but what I'm talking about would bypass that entirely. We're gonna open a direct route to the Underworld—send him straight back without the messy induction process."

The corner of Leo's mouth twitched upward. "Straight back, huh? As in 'Do not pass GO, do not collect two hundred dollars'."

Nico smirked. "Exactly."

Leo rested an arm over his eyes and reached the other hand into the air, giving a weak thumbs-up. "I'm in."

Reyna bit her bottom lip, looking apprehensive, but after a minute she sighed and conceded, "Alright, it's as good a plan as any. What do we need?"

"For starters," Nico answered, stretching his arms out and cracking his knuckles, "a graveyard."

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**Sounds like fun, huh? How 'bout droppin' a review on your way out? Have a good weekend, everybody! Later days!**

**-oMM**


	12. XII Nico

**Hi, gang! If you're wondering why I didn't put this up yesterday, I'm a little behind on my writing so I decided to start spacing out the updates to one per week for a bit. Motivation's been low lately and I've been too busy at work. I won't ever give up on this story, but I'm hitting a bit of a slow patch. Hopefully it doesn't last long.**

**Anyway, thanks as always to all of you who reviewed last week! Enjoy!**

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**XII  
NICO**

According to the map Nico had picked up by shadow-traveling to the nearest city, there were a total of ten cemeteries in the Deam Wilderness, the closest of which was only a mile from where he, Leo, and Reyna had appeared after escaping the forest. They had to hope that once they re-entered the Wilderness, Moros wouldn't catch up to them until they were ready for him. Probably a vain hope, admittedly.

"So why a graveyard?" Reyna asked as the trio made their way at a fast walk through the dark forest.

"There's a lot of spirit energy in graveyards," Nico answered, climbing over a particularly large log. "It's much easier to bridge a path between our world and the Underworld. The two planes are… closer, more connected in places relating to death."

"No wonder cemeteries always give me the creeps," Leo muttered with a shiver. "They make me feel like I've got one foot in the grave. Guess it's actually true."

"Basically."

Nico reached sideways to snatch Leo by the arm as he stumbled and almost fell, having had to do so over a dozen times already since they'd reentered the forest. It was good Leo was on his feet, but the knock on the head must have triggered a minor concussion, because he was still dizzy and a little out of it. Even so, he'd insisted on coming along to help, and since Nico didn't have time for Leo's 'everything-is-dandy-don't-worry-about-me' act, he hadn't argued. But now he was starting to rethink that decision.

"Look, are you sure you're gonna be able to do this?" he asked with a frown once Leo had steadied himself. "You realize how easy it'll be for Moros to get the jump on you like this, right?"

"Isn't that the point? I'll be fine. I just gotta get him to that cemetery you showed us on the map, right?"

"Yeah," Nico agreed. "But what good's it gonna do if you can't run and he snags you before you even get there?"

"That won't happen," Leo insisted off-handedly. He grinned, though Nico noticed him blink hard as though he were trying not to see double. On top of that, the minute he turned forward and took a few steps, he proceeded to trip over something on the uneven ground and stagger sideways into Reyna. She grabbed his arms to steady him, his hands latching onto her shoulders, but as soon as he was upright again she quickly let go and took a few steps backward.

With an odd, unreadable glance at Leo, Reyna said shortly, "I'm… gonna go scout ahead," and walked briskly off into the trees.

"What was that about?" Nico asked once she'd disappeared.

Leo gave a short, frustrated sigh as they started walking after her. "I told you she hates me."

"I don't know. When you were knocked out earlier, she seemed pretty worried."

"Really?" Leo asked, raising his eyebrows.

Nico shrugged in response. "Looked that way. You remember what I said about being a team, right? If you guys have stuff to work out, you should probably get to it."

Leo was quiet for a minute, his jaw flexing back and forth and his eyebrows knitting together. He looked like he was thinking hard about something, trying to puzzle something out. Then his shoulders seemed to sag and he sighed. He started to say, "We—" but broke off immediately as a surprised shout cut in from somewhere ahead of them. A surprised shout that sounded a lot like Reyna.

"Uh-oh," Nico muttered, before both boys broke into a run.

They didn't have to go far. After only a few yards, Leo yelled "Ow!" and skidded to a halt as something fell against the top of his head. Nico stopped a few steps ahead of him and spun around as Leo grimaced and picked up the object that had hit him—and Nico was surprised to realize it was Reyna's knife. It must have fallen hilt-first, because if Leo's luck had been just a little worse a concussion would've been the least of his problems. He seemed to realize this as well, because his face seemed to pale a bit before he craned his neck backward and looked up. "Reyna?" he called with a yelp of surprise.

High above them in the shadows, Nico could just barely make out Reyna's form, which looked to be hanging by the ankle from a rope or a vine attached to a thick tree branch. She was struggling to free herself, but she must not have been getting anywhere, because a second later Nico heard her sigh and grumble, "I am getting _so_ tired of this forest."

"Nice of you to hang around," an amused voice cut in, and Nico turned to see that Moros had materialized right beside him. He scrambled backward in alarm, but the spirit took no notice and continued to grin up at Reyna. "I thought I might'a scared you guys off."

Nico shot a meaningful look at Leo, telling him they might as well get the plan under way. Leo seemed to get the message, because he folded his arms and rolled his eyes dramatically. "Us? Scared?" he scoffed. "You're gonna have to try harder than that. Unless you were hoping that look of yours was enough to send us running, 'cause in that case you might be onto something." Moros' gaze dropped to Leo and he arched an eyebrow, and Leo went on, "Seriously, could you turn around or something? I think I'm starting to feel sick."

Moros narrowed his eyes. "You know, bro, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were tryin' to rile me up."

"If I were trying to rile you up, you'd know it," Leo replied. He walked toward Moros and Nico took the opportunity to take a few slow steps backward while the spirit's attention was elsewhere. "So are you really a ghost, or do you just play one on TV? Like, if I try to touch you, will I go right through you?" To demonstrate, Leo stuck a hand out and waved it through Moros' chest, passing through the spirit like he wasn't there.

Moros cringed and stepped back, feet floating above the ground. "Harsh, man," he said, wagging a finger. "How would you like it if I went stickin' my hand inside you? Maybe I should give it a try." He reached toward Leo, who leapt sideways out of the way.

"Whoa, sorry," Leo insisted, holding up his hands. "I just wasn't sure you were real. I mean, when I first saw you, I thought you were a joke. Who dresses like that, seriously? What, were you some kind of groupie before you died? Or just one of those posers that mimics celebrities?"

Moros chuckled, but the laugh was so dry that it was obvious he wasn't amused in the slightest. "That's cute, bro, but—"

"_That's_ it—Nyx," Leo interrupted, snapping his fingers. When Moros frowned, he went on, "Sorry. That weird-looking face and hair of yours seemed familiar and I've been trying to remember who you reminded me of. I got it, though. You're a dead ringer for your mother. Tough break, man." He shook his head in mock sympathy.

Moros' smirk vanished immediately. "What did you say?" he asked, voice suddenly low and threatening.

Leo shrugged. "Nyx. Never met her personally, but I've seen her. Not much of a 'goddess', I gotta say—she's even uglier and less impressive than you." Nico cringed, wondering how smart it was to insult the Queen of Night and hoping she didn't happen to be listening in from wherever she was. The words got the desired effect, though, if the expression on Moros' face was any indication.

"My mother is the most powerful and beautiful goddess of them _all_," the spirit said scathingly, a snarl contorting his ghostly features. "Those other gods could _never_ stand up to her. And how dare _you_ say otherwise? If I called her here, she'd destroy you before that mouth of yours took another breath. A _child_ like you isn't even worthy to say her name!"

"Child, huh?" Leo repeated. He looked sideways at Moros and smirked, saying, "I'm not the one threatening to cry for his mommy."

That seemed to do it. Moros screamed angrily and charged at Leo, both ethereal arms outstretched. Leo dodged to the side and laughed, before turning and bolting off into the trees. With a furious yell of "We'll see who's crying when I'm done with you!" Moros sped after him.

The instant they were out of sight, Nico turned and looked up at Reyna as she asked dryly, "How about getting me down from here?" He stepped back against the nearest tree and a quick shadow-travel-jump later, Reyna was safe on the ground again. She picked up her knife from where it had fallen and said firmly, "Let's go." And together they headed off after the others.

They shouldn't have been far from the cemetery, if Nico had pictured the map correctly in his head. As long as Leo was able to evade Moros long enough to get him in position, they were in the clear.

After a minute or so, they found it. The trees thinned and ended in a jagged line surrounding a small collection of scattered headstones. Some looked relatively new and well-taken-care-of, but others were worn and broken, probably centuries old. Nico could feel a cold surge of power as he and Reyna crouched just inside the line of trees, eyes peering through the darkness to where Leo and Moros stood facing each other amid the assortment of graves.

"Now?" Reyna asked, grip tightening on her dagger.

"Not yet," Nico replied with a shake of his head. "I have to meditate first—establish a connection to the Underworld. Shouldn't take long, but he can't see me until I'm done. We can't draw his attention." Reyna clucked her tongue and scowled, but she followed his instructions and remained still and silent, her eyes trained forward on the spirit of doom.

As Nico sat down on the ground and crossed his legs, resting his hands on his knees, he shot a glance through the darkness to make sure time was still on their side. Moros hadn't summoned any ghost-hounds, which was a good sign, but judging by the look on his face he was heading in that direction. He was saying something about how his power was only a fraction of Nyx's and he still wouldn't need her help to finish off a few weakling demigods and was glaring at Leo, who was inching slowly back away from him and guiding him to the very center of the graveyard—just like Nico had told him to.

Taking a deep breath, Nico closed his eyes and let the darkness around him thicken. He slowed his breathing so it was barely more than a tiny tickle of air movement, reaching with his mind for the world of the dead that lay beneath him. As he did so, the sounds around him seemed to become sharper—he could hear leaves rustling and insects buzzing. He could even hear Reyna's steady breathing beside him, feel the beating of her heart. He was instantly aware of every living thing within a mile radius of the cemetery—and every dead thing buried beneath it.

"It's a good thing we're in a graveyard, kid," Moros' voice said bitingly, and Nico spared a fraction of his concentration to listen just in case things got ugly. "'Cause I'm about to bury you."

"I'd like to see you try," Leo replied lightly. "Actually, strike that. I'd like to see you fail." Moros growled in anger and Nico heard his fingers snap. A vicious snarl, an intake of breath from Reyna, a surge of fire, a howl. Then Leo laughed, and Nico knew everything was alright.

"Now I see why your doom-aura is out'a control," Moros said. "You got a death wish, don't you? Fine. I don't make a habit of grantin' wishes, but I'll make an exception for you, bro. Let's take that head injury of yours a step further." Another snap of the spirit's fingers, and this time Leo suddenly screamed in pain. Beside Nico, Reyna tensed and started to rise, and he could feel her heartbeat picking up speed.

Nico reached out and grabbed Reyna's sleeve. "Wait," he said, eyes remaining closed.

"He'll kill him!" she shot back in a harsh whisper. Nico frowned and opened his eyes in time to see Leo stagger to one knee, both hands tightly gripping the sides of his head as Moros watched with a smug expression. He looked over at Reyna to see her staring at him with intense, almost angry eyes. Realizing that she had a point, he let go of her without a word. Immediately she sprang to her feet and rushed out into the clearing.

Moros didn't notice her at first, and Nico decided to take advantage of the distraction as best he could and shut his eyes again. He only needed a few more seconds before it could start.

When Moros yelled in anger and surprise, Nico knew Reyna must have successfully attacked him as he used magic, just like she did before. "You!" the spirit snarled at her. "Here to save your boyfriend? Or would you rather die with him?"

Time was up. Nico opened his eyes, feeling the shadows cling to him, and stood up, fixing his gaze on Moros. He opened his mouth and started muttering under his breath—an ancient Greek spell to banish an escaped soul back to the Underworld where it belonged. He hoped Moros hadn't realized yet what was happening and—more importantly—wasn't strong enough to resist it.

Then, just as the spirit turned toward Reyna with the obvious intention of attacking her, he seemed to freeze in place, his arm outstretched. "What the—?" he muttered, eyes dropping to the uneven ground as smoking, shadowy chains suddenly sprang out from the dirt and wrapped themselves around his wrists, ankles, and neck. "Hey! What is this? Stop it!"

Still reciting the spell in a low whisper, Nico stepped out into the cemetery and Moros' eyes snapped onto him. "_You_," he growled. He lunged toward Nico, but the black chains held him back as they began to sink below the ground, pulling the spirit with them. "You can't do this! Mother will set me free again! Then she'll destroy you! All of you!"

Spell finished, Nico folded his arms. "Nyx doesn't control the dead," he said coldly. "I do."

"NO!" Moros screamed. He pulled and fought against his binds, but to no avail. The smoking chains continued to drag him slowly but surely beneath the earth, back to the land of the dead. "You can't doom me! I _am_ doom! Stop this _now_!"

Nico's memory flashed back to an hour or so ago, when the spirit had almost killed him with a fatal disease. A sense of morbid satisfaction spread through him and he stepped forward, coming to rest just out of Moros' reach. "You know that moment of panic, right before the end?" he echoed the spirit's words with a smirk. "You feel it yet?"

Moros' eyes widened with fury—and possibly a touch of fear. He screamed in frustration and thrashed his arms uselessly before he was finally pulled into the shadowy ground and silence fell over the graveyard.

As the spell finished and the otherworldly connection broke, Nico felt his energy drain out of him like a dam had been opened. Suddenly weak and tired, he sank to his knees, his eyelids drooping with exhaustion. He'd never actually _used_ that particular banishing spell before, though he'd known in theory how it would work. And it wasn't something he was too keen on doing again in the near future.

"So… he's gone?" Reyna's voice asked. Nico looked up to see her watching him with a slightly nervous expression, like she was afraid he'd decide to go ahead and send her to the Underworld while he was at it. He wasn't exactly surprised, or offended, for that matter. It can't have been the most comfortable thing to watch.

"Yeah," he responded, his voice winded and breathy. "He won't be bothering us again anytime soon."

"Awesome," Leo said in a slightly slurred voice, and Nico turned to see him stumbling unsteadily to his feet. His balance was still off-kilter, though, and he staggered sideways against a tombstone, a hand on his head and a grimace on his face. "We should, uh… find… wait, how did we get here again?"

"The dragon…?" Reyna supplied uncertainly, eyebrows drawing together.

"Dragon, right, yeah," Leo agreed with a frown. "Let's go find it." He blinked hazily and squinted at Nico and Reyna, pointing a finger at the empty yards of air between them. "You four split up and look. I'll… wait here and…" They never found what Leo planned to do, however, because mid-sentence he promptly collapsed onto the ground and passed out.

Reyna looked at Nico and raised an eyebrow. "Four?" she repeated.

Nico sighed heavily, dragging himself to his feet. "Let's just get him some ambrosia so we can get out of here. I don't think he's fixing anything like that."

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**Nico: "You know that moment of panic, right before the end? You feel it yet?"**

**My brain: "BUUUUUURN!"**

**Hahaha XD So anyway, next update probably won't be until sometime next week, unless my schedule suddenly frees up and the block in my mind drops. Leave me a review in the meantime? Later days!**

**-oMM**


	13. XIII Percy

**Hey, gang. My progress with this hasn't overcome its stand-still so I've got to continue on the slow updates. Hopefully things pick up soon, or I'm gonna run out of backlog.**

**Anyway, thanks to everybody who reviewed last week! Enjoy!**

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**XIII  
PERCY**

The gun pointed at his face almost gave Percy a heart attack.

There he was, walking down the hall and minding his own business, when all of a sudden his path was barred by the double barrel of a shotgun. Thankfully, though, it was never fired, because as soon as its owner saw him she gasped and cried "Percy!" before lowering the weapon and wrapping him in a bone-crushing hug.

Still a little stunned, he answered her, "Hey, Mom."

Sally Jackson stepped back and smiled at her son as her husband appeared from the living room doorway and said, "Why didn't you tell us you were stopping by? Might've avoided the awkward gunpoint situation."

"Sorry," Percy said with a slightly sheepish smile. "You know—no phones, and all. I guess it's good to see you guys are defending yourselves, at least."

Sally's eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch. "You didn't get _all_ that skill from your father, you know. I can take care of myself, too."

"She's been taking care of me, while she's at it," Paul put in a bit ruefully, and when Sally lifted a shoulder Percy couldn't help but laugh. The situation in New York was dangerous, but it was comforting to know that his mom and step-dad were being careful. When the war had started, part of him had wanted to stay with them and keep them safe. But if he had, the reality was that that would likely only place them in more danger. And besides, his place was at Camp Half-Blood—at least until Erebos and Nyx were defeated.

"Anyway," Sally said after a brief minute, "I'm sure you didn't come over to stand in the hallway. Come inside, I'll make you something to eat."

Despite Percy's insistence that he wasn't hungry, he somehow found himself seated at the kitchen table ten minutes later with a turkey and cheese sandwich and a plate piled high with blue chocolate-chip cookies (according to Paul, Sally had developed a habit of stress-baking; every time something came on the news about an attack nearby or when she had a feeling that something was wrong, she would distract herself by baking; evidence of this sat all around the kitchen in the forms of muffins, breads, brownies, and various other sweets). He took a bite of the sandwich and glanced around the room. He'd started staying at Camp Half-Blood at the start of the war and had visited his parents' apartment twice since then, but for some reason it felt like he'd been away for years. Maybe that was the thing about wars—they made time stretch on longer than it should.

"So what's this about, Percy?" Sally asked after a minute, dropping into the chair across from her son and fixing him with a concerned frown.

"What's what about? I can't just stop by for a visit?"

She gave him a wry smile. "I raised you, remember? I can tell when you have something you want to say."

Percy swallowed his mouthful of food and frowned at the table, his throat feeling tight. He shot a glance at Paul, who was leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms folded, and said slowly, "I heard from Dad."

Sally's eyes widened. "You did? Is he going to help you?"

"Not exactly," Percy admitted, before repeating to them his father's news and instructions. He told them about Hypnos and the gods' entrapment, and about the quest three of their campers had been sent on earlier that evening to find and free the god of sleep. He tried not to sound too worried about it, but judging by the looks on his mom and stepdad's faces, he hadn't exactly succeeded.

"Wasn't Nyx the goddess you and your friends fought last month?" Paul asked with a frown, and Percy nodded in affirmation. "Is it really safe to only send three people after her?"

"Any more would draw too much attention," Percy answered a bit reluctantly. "The whole thing's scrapped if they can't even make it to Death Valley. We just… have to trust that they will." He noticed that he sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than his stepdad, and maybe he was. He'd been finding it increasingly difficult to stay positive lately, almost like a piece of the sky's darkness had rooted itself inside him and was refusing to let go. He saw the sense in a traditional three-person quest team, but that didn't do much to alleviate the frightening fact that Nico, Leo, and Reyna were going against Nyx herself. They would need more than stealth in order to rescue Hypnos from her power.

Percy had wanted to volunteer for the quest before Reyna had stepped in, but Annabeth had held him back. He understood why. Erebos was watching him; the dream visit he'd had from the King of Darkness had erased any doubt of that. He needed to keep Erebos' attention focused there in New York, otherwise the quest team would never make it to Death Valley. If he'd gone, chances were they never would've escaped notice. But just because he understood the reason didn't mean he was happy about being left behind. This was his father's request, after all. He felt some measure of responsibility for it. The fact that he couldn't help tore at his nerves like a biting hunger he couldn't satisfy.

Percy shook his head, focusing on the situation at hand. "But… if they do free Hypnos," he went on haltingly, getting to the main point he'd been planning to make, "and he frees the rest of them, this city's gonna turn into a frontline battlefield. And not just between us and monsters—it'll be a battle between gods. It's gonna get messy. And I… I don't want you guys here when that happens."

"Percy," Sally said in the sturdy voice only a mother could ever master, "how many times do we have to tell you? We're not going anywhere."

"This city is our home, too," Paul added, coming to stand behind his wife. "We'll protect it, just like you and your friends. Even if we can't be out there in the thick of it all."

"And _you're_ here." Sally smiled, explaining, "We would never leave you, especially not in the middle of a war." She reached across the table and clasped one of Percy's hands in both of hers. "Even if the only way we can help is by being nearby, it's enough. You'll need every bit of light possible in order to fight this darkness. Abandoning you and taking that away is something we won't ever do."

He was about to argue that it wouldn't be abandonment if he wanted them to leave, but the look on his mother's face and the firmness of her voice made him stop. There was nothing he could say to change her mind. And maybe, deep down, he didn't want to try that hard. She was right—they _would_ need every bit of light to wipe out the growing darkness. Just having his family nearby gave him something else to fight for, which in turn gave him strength. The more support he and the others had, the easier it would be for them to fight Erebos' darkness.

"Alright, alright. Thanks, guys," he said to them with a small, weak sort of smile. "Just… promise me you'll at least stay indoors, okay? And if you run into trouble, find a way to call me."

"Deal," Sally promised as Paul nodded in agreement. "Just remember not to worry too much about us. You've got your hands full as it is."

"You can say that again," Percy muttered, taking another bite of his sandwich. He still wasn't hungry, but he stuck around long enough to finish it and even force down a few of his mom's cookies. It felt good to spend time with his family—relaxing, even, like he could almost forget there was a war going on outside the apartment building. If he'd had the choice, he wouldn't have left at all. But that time eventually came, and with a pocketful of blue chocolate-chip cookies, he was forced to bid his mom and stepdad goodbye and leave them alone.

He'd barely stepped outside when a voice yelled in his head, _Yo, boss! We gotta move!_

Percy winced at the volume and spun around to glare at the jittery black pegasus that had brought him to Manhattan from Long Island. "If this is about that bird you've been chasing since we left, I don't want to—"

_Noooo,_ Blackjack argued, shaking his head and braying loudly. He kicked the pavement and said, _Message from the crew. Trouble outside camp! It's a monster montage, boss—they need our help!_

"What?" Percy demanded at once. "Why didn't you call me sooner?"

_I would'a, boss, but you said not to bug you._

"I said not to bug me _unless it's important_."

_Oh. Yeah, wasn't listening to that part. The bird was taunting me, I swear. I'll get that little runt if it's the last thing I—_

"Argh, whatever!" Percy interrupted the horse, climbing onto his back and twisting his hands in his mane. "Just go already!"

_You got it, boss! We're off to save the day!_

Percy rolled his eyes in frustration as Blackjack spread his wings and kicked off from the ground, gliding into the air with impressive speed. The horse was definitely trustworthy and loyal to a fault, but his concentration left more than a little bit to be desired. Still, pegasus was the fasted method of travel that they had easy access to—if only the horse's head worked as quickly as his wings did.

They made it across Long Island in just under half an hour, which meant Blackjack must have _really_ been booking it. He seemed tired when they landed—enough so that no remarks about 'the heroes arriving' were forthcoming—so Percy let his irritation slide and thanked the horse before taking in the situation.

Blackjack had touched down about a mile from Camp Half-Blood—in the middle of what he had aptly described as 'a monster montage'. A pack of hellhounds, a few Scythian dracaenae, a handful of strange, lizard-like creatures the size of tigers, a swarm of giant spiders (Percy briefly hoped none of the Athena kids were in the area), and even a pair of Cyclopes were all barreling around in a chaotic formation, battling the group of Greek and Roman defenders that had come to help out. It was like Monsters 'R Us was having a going-out-of-business sale, and Erebos had bought up the entire stock and set it loose on Long Island.

"Wait here, Blackjack," Percy ordered the pegasus. "If I need help, I'll call you."

_Sure thing, boss,_ he replied, sounding winded. _Wonder if I can find that bird…_

Percy ignored the horse and pulled his sword from his pocket, uncapping it so it extended to full length. He ran for the nearest monster—one of the spiders—and slashed it from behind before it even knew he was there. A second one came to take its place, and after slicing its front legs at the joints and dropping it to the ground he stabbed it between two of its eight yellow eyes, turning it to dust.

Monster attacks like this one were hardly uncommon nowadays, what with Erebos and Nyx's apparent control over all creatures of the night and darkness. Their army—if you could call it an army—was made up almost entirely of such beasts, many of which had a habit of running rampant in the streets at all hours of the day. Hardly anyone stepped foot outside their homes anymore unless absolutely necessary. Still, no matter how many battles you faced on a daily basis, that didn't make them any less urgent and dangerous.

After sending a pair of wounded Roman soldiers back to camp, Percy turned back to the street in time to be tackled by a dark, scaly shape. As claws poked him hard in the chest and shoved him to his back on the ground, he recognized it as one of the oversized lizard creatures. It looked like a komodo dragon, only bigger and uglier, with a crown-like crest on the top of its head and four long, snake-like fangs protruding from its mouth. He tried to shove it off as it hissed angrily at him, forked tongue whipping back and forth, but for some reason looking into its beady, violet eyes seemed to freeze him in place. It opened its jaws to snap at him, but before it got the chance a dull _thunk_ sounded and the fletching of an arrow appeared in the side of its neck. It fell limp and disintegrated to dark green sand.

Percy gagged and spit out a mouthful of monster dust, pushing himself up on his elbows as a hand appeared in front of him. He took it and allowed the person to pull him to his feet, recognizing his rescuer as a sixteen-year-old camper from the Apollo cabin.

"Thanks, Austin," he said, brushing green sand from his clothes.

"No problem, Percy," Austin replied. "I don't know where these basilisks came from, but they've already incapacitated half a dozen of us. We'd better drop the rest of 'em before—get down!" Eyes shifting to something over Percy's shoulder, Austin quickly yanked an arrow from the quiver on his back and nocked it, pulling back on his bowstring. Percy followed his instructions and ducked as he loosed the arrow, and the resulting sharp hiss told him the arrow had taken out another lizard monster.

Austin was already nocking another arrow as Percy spun around to see a second lizard—a basilisk, Austin had called it—slinking toward them with surprising speed. He darted forward to meet it and turned to the side to evade its pointed teeth, then swung Riptide instinctively and sliced through the scales on the monster's left side. It made a noise somewhere between a growl and a hiss and as it turned toward Percy he buried the blade of his bronze sword in its neck.

A surprised shout made him spin around in time to see another basilisk jump Austin from behind, driving him to the ground. His bow flew from his hands and skittered across the pavement. The monster snapped its fangs at him, but he yanked an arrow from his quiver and reached over his shoulder, stabbing his attacker in the eye. It snarled and swung its head before dissolving to dust.

"I thought basilisks could kill just by looking at you," Percy said as he helped Austin back to his feet.

"Common misconception," Austin replied, rolling his shoulder and grimacing. "If you look in their eyes, they can paralyze you, but they can't kill just by sight. That's what the fangs are for." He gritted his teeth and blinked a few times, and Percy suddenly noticed that something was wrong. His voice strangely winded, Austin added, "They're… poisonous." Then his knees buckled and he stumbled.

"Austin!" Percy said as he lunged forward and caught him, lowering him carefully to the ground. As he did so, he noticed the shallow cut on the back of his left shoulder—which must have been dug by the basilisk's snake-like teeth. "Uh-oh…" he muttered; Austin was already losing consciousness. He had to get back to camp fast. "Austin. Hey, Austin! Aw, Styx…"

Percy raised his head and called out with his mind, _Blackjack! Where are you? I need your help!_

After a few long seconds, the pegasus answered back, _Just a sec, boss! I found the bird! Oh, that little runt isn't getting away this time._

_Are you kidding me? Forget that thing! Get over here now!_

_I almost got it, I swear! I just need a few—_

_Blackjack!_

_Okay, okay. You're the boss. I'm on my way._

Luckily, the horse was fast. In a few minutes time, Percy had slung Austin over Blackjack's back with instructions to head straight for the camp infirmary. The wound wasn't serious, so as long as the poison could be counteracted he would be fine. That is, assuming Blackjack didn't drop him on the way back to camp.

The instant the pegasus had taken off, a voice behind Percy called his name and he turned to see Grover running toward him, reed pipes in hand and a frantic look in his eyes.

"You haven't seen Gleeson, have you?" Grover asked, sounding out of breath. He bent over and rested his hands on his knees.

"Coach Hedge?" Percy replied with a frown. "No, why?"

Grover clucked his tongue, straightening and shooting a glance over his shoulder. "There's a new kid in danger not far from here. He and I were supposed to be going after her, but as soon as we got here he ran off to join the fight. It was like he completely forgot I was there."

"Sounds like him," Percy said wryly. "I'll help you look." Grover nodded and ran off, and Percy headed in the opposite direction. He couldn't see much through the darkness, but it looked like the street and sidewalk were littered with different amounts and variations of monster dust. He didn't see any injured campers, which was a good sign. Hopefully everyone who wasn't still fighting had made it back to camp.

Percy turned a street corner and was met with the sight of a few kids fighting three hellhounds. He jumped in and helped them finish off two of them before he heard a voice farther down the road shout, "Take THAT, you overgrown poodle! Nobody's eating any kids on my watch! HA!"

_Found him_, Percy thought, trying not to roll his eyes as he finally caught a glimpse of Coach Hedge, who had apparently just kicked the third hellhound in the nose. It whimpered and cowered away from the five-foot satyr, obviously forgetting that it was four times his size, before a home-run-hitter from Hedge's baseball bat turned the hound to dust.

"Coach!" Percy called to him, running forward now that the coast was clear.

Hedge whipped around, hollered "DIE, UNDERWORLD SCUM!" and whacked Percy on the head with his bat before he could slow to a stop. He staggered to the ground with an alarmed yell as the satyr said, "Oh. Jackson. Didn't see you there."

"Yeah, I noticed," Percy grumbled irritably, blinking black and white dots from his vision as he struggled to his feet. "Grover's looking for you—got a job nearby."

"Lord of the Wild? I'm on my way!" Hedge said at once, as though he hadn't abandoned Grover a little while ago. Then he frowned and tilted his head to the side, saying, "Your head's bleeding, kid. You should be more careful."

Percy gaped at the satyr. "You just—" he started incredulously, but Hedge was already running off down the street. "Wait—Coach!" Percy shouted. When Hedge turned back to face him, he pointed over his shoulder and said dryly, "That way."

"Right you are, Jackson!" Hedge said gruffly, slinging his bat over his shoulder and switching direction. "I was testing you. Good news—you passed! Now get back to camp where you belong! It's dangerous out here."

Percy shook his head as the satyr jogged past him and disappeared around the corner, feeling unexpectedly angry. He pushed the irritation back, blaming the baseball-bat headache, and was about to follow Hedge's advice and return to camp when suddenly someone behind him gave a strangled yell as another voice frantically shouted "No!"

Percy whirled around and his eyes landed on the Stoll brothers, one of whom was on the ground with a huge, ugly creature hovering over him. It had the head of lion, the body of a mountain goat, and a hissing snake for a tail. Percy's eyes widened at the sight of it. He'd only ever seen something like it once before, on his very first quest for Camp Half-Blood, but it wasn't the sort of creature you were likely to forget. A chimera.

"Aw, great," he muttered ruefully, before tightening his grip on his sword and charging into the fight.

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**Fun stuff, as usual! Haha. Drop me a review on your way out the door! Later days, gang!**

**-oMM**


	14. XIV Percy

**Hi gang! It's been a bit, I know. I just don't want to catch up to the end of my backlog just yet. This is a rather eventful chapter though, so I figured it would hopefully be worth the wait.**

**Thanks bunches to everybody who reviewed last chapter! Enjoy some more action and drama!**

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**XIV  
PERCY**

Chimeras weren't exactly high on Percy's 'Favorite Monster Hits' playlist. His last encounter with one had ended in his diving from the top of the Gateway Arch in St. Louis while simultaneously on fire and dying of poisonous snake venom. If it hadn't been for his father's blessing, he would've been dead halfway through his first ever quest. Not exactly a happy memory he liked to revisit.

This chimera looked almost identical to the first, though it was missing the oversized dog collar Echidna had fitted to its brother. Just looking at it brought a rush of flashbacks—memories of the scared, twelve-year-old boy who'd just discovered he was half-Greek-god and been forced on a dangerous journey to recover his immortal uncle's lost lightning bolt. It felt like a lifetime ago, and when Percy blinked and shook himself out of the memory it suddenly seemed like it wasn't his—like he was thinking back on the life of someone else entirely. Had things really changed that much since then?

Pushing that uncomfortable thought aside, he gritted his teeth and rushed toward the chimera, which was still standing over Travis Stoll. It opened its mouth and smoke rolled from its jaws, signaling that it was preparing to breathe a cloud of fire. With a groan, Percy muttered, "I know I'm gonna regret this," before letting out a loud yell and charging the beast from the side. He rammed his shoulder into its coarse mane and tackled it, knocking it sideways away from Travis and onto the pavement. Its head whipped around and it shot a column of flames into the sky, and Percy ducked instinctively as he and the monster rolled over one another. When he hit the ground beside it, he noticed the burning heat hadn't altogether faded and realized some of the fire had clung to his jacket sleeve, which was now covered in bright orange flames. With a yelp, he tore the jacket off and threw it on the ground, stamping the fire out.

By then, Connor had run to his brother's side and the chimera had turned its full attention to the arrival of a new challenger, who was both relieved and slightly terrified of the fact. Percy stared into the monster's eyes, backing slowly away from it as his heart started pounding and rushing adrenaline threatened to burst his veins. His eyes darted to the snake-tail, which thrashed around and bared its poisonous teeth. Last time, he hadn't paid the tail enough attention, and it had successfully bitten and disarmed him. This time, he would be sure not to let that happen again.

When the chimera pounced, he was ready. He dove to the side and rolled, coming up in a crouch before spinning around and slicing out with Riptide, deflecting the fangs of the diamondback. The monster stood on its goat hooves and swung its head, visible waves of heat emanating from its glowing mouth, before a blaze of fire streamed from between its teeth. Percy dropped to the ground and lay flat on his stomach, throwing his hands over his head as the flames swept through the air above him, the heat singing the hair on his arms. When the fire vanished, he heard an angry roar and rolled to the side just as the chimera's hooves landed right where he'd been lying.

Percy scrambled to his feet and sidestepped another striking bite from the serpent-tail, swinging Riptide in a downward arc as he did so and throwing all his strength behind the blow. The bronze blade passed straight through the snake with a sickening _shlump_, severing its head clean off. The body swung like a whip as the head hissed and dropped to the asphalt, thrashing for a few seconds like a fish out of water before disintegrating to dust.

The lion head of the chimera loosed a vicious roar and Percy looked up just in time to be kicked in the chest by the monster's two back hooves. The force lifted him off his feet and sent him flying through the air as the wind was knocked from his lungs. His back slammed into the side of an abandoned car a few yards away and he slid to the ground, rolling onto his hands and knees with a groan.

Gasping as he tried to catch his breath and wincing at the bruises forming on his chest, Percy struggled to his feet, leaning against the car for help. His sword was no longer in his hand, and a quick survey of the street around him didn't reveal its whereabouts. It would come back to him eventually, but the chimera didn't look to be in a patient mood. It was glaring at him with its teeth bared, smoke pouring from its mouth and hooves beating the asphalt. Evidently it had rather liked its snake-tail and was displeased with Percy for beheading it.

He needed a plan. Going against a monster like the chimera without a weapon would undoubtedly be filed in the dictionary under 'suicide', and while Percy wasn't afraid of a challenge he also didn't have a death wish. Looking around frantically, his gaze landed on a manhole a few feet to his right and he got an idea. Eyeing the chimera to make sure it didn't leap at him, he edged toward the manhole and dropped to a crouch, resting a hand against the pavement and hoping for a stroke of luck. Sure enough, he could feel a shallow stream of water below him—sewer water, but it would have to do. A weapon was a weapon, after all, no matter how unpleasant.

Percy stood slowly, eyes trained on the monster and a hand resting in the air above the manhole. The chimera was glaring at him, lips curled in a snarl, crouching low and stepping slowly to the side as though stalking prey. He pulled his hand upward, feeling resistance as the sewer water began to rise underneath the street, and the instant the chimera lunged he braced one hand against the car and formed a fist with the other, thrusting it forward with a loud yell. The metal cover sprang from the manhole as gallons of dirty water rushed out at once, forming a geyser that bent midair and hurtled straight for the monster. Already mid-leap, the chimera was helpless to defend itself, and the stream slammed into it with all the force of a speeding subway car. It roared in anger as it was thrown onto the pavement, and when Percy lowered his arm and the geyser dropped, the chimera was gone.

He leaned back against the car and breathed heavily, the effort of calling so much water from that distance having drained him. Not to mention the fact that his head still ached from where Hedge had mistaken him for a monster. Looking around, he saw the Stoll brothers in the middle of the street a few yards from where he stood, Travis still lying on the ground and Connor crouching over him. Rolling his shoulders and grimacing at the dull pain in his chest, Percy pushed off of the car and strode toward them, shoes sloshing through the discolored city sewer water pooling across the asphalt.

"Thanks, Percy," Connor said to him, looking up as he approached and dropped to one knee. "Man, I thought we were dead meat for sure. Remind me not to go after any horrific monsters again without our resident superhero for backup." He laughed weakly, sounding as though the humor was obviously forced. The look in his eyes was desperate.

"Is he okay?" Percy asked, glancing down at Travis. The older Stoll brother was conscious, but by the look of it, barely. His shoulder and the right side of his chest were covered in blood, his shirt and jacket torn by ugly-looking slash marks. His eyes were squeezed shut, his expression twitching between sharp pain and weak exhaustion as his chest moved with uneven breaths.

"I don't know," Connor admitted, looking miserable as his eyes fell back to his brother. "It was the head that bit him, not the tail, so I don't think it's poisoned, but…"

Percy's throat tightened as he inspected the damage with his eyes. It didn't look good. He raised his head and did a quick survey of the area, noting that things seemed to be quieting down for now. At least until the monsters started to reform. With luck, though, they'd have some time before that happened. "Let's get back to camp," he decided. With an anxious look at Travis, he added, "Fast."

-ψ-ψ-ψ-

The camp infirmary was much more crowded after the recent battle. The majority of the beds were now occupied by people in various states of injury and Greek and Roman healers were bustling about the tent, carrying supplies to one station or another. Travis was pulled from Percy and Connor's grasp almost immediately and taken to a bed, while no fewer than five campers busied themselves over him. Connor followed them and tried to stay close by while another healer offered to bandage the side of Percy's head where Hedge had hit him. He ignored the person as his gaze landed on his girlfriend, who was sitting on the edge of a bed near the back of the tent and talking to a girl from the Apollo cabin, an agitated look on her face.

With a frown, Percy pushed through the crowd until he reached the bed. "What are you doing here?" he asked Annabeth seriously. "You were out there? You're not hurt, are you?"

"'Hello' to you, too, Seaweed Brain," she replied sarcastically as the other girl took one look at Percy and edged around him with some half-hearted excuse about checking on another patient. "And to answer your questions, yes, I was out there, and no, I'm fine. I just twisted my wrist, is all. I told these guys they have more important injuries to deal with, but they're insisting everything be treated." She frowned and wrinkled her nose, then added, "Ugh, why do you smell like a sewer?"

"Long story."

"And what happened to your head? I didn't know you were in the battle, too."

"Blackjack got a distress call from some of the other pegasi," Percy explained, dodging his girlfriend's arm as she reached for him with a frown. "Don't worry, I'm fine, too. It wasn't even a monster that did this."

Annabeth looked confused. "Wasn't even—?"

"Brother!" a familiar voice interrupted as an iron grip snatched Percy by the arm and pulled him sideways into an actual-sized bear hug. He stumbled in surprise, not needing to guess who had attacked him.

"Tyson—when did you get here?" he asked with a grin, pulling himself from the arms of his Cyclops half-brother.

Tyson beamed down at him, his single eye bright between growing curtains of thick brown hair. "Half hour ago," he replied. "Message from camp asked for supplies from the forges. I came to deliver them so I could see you!"

Percy laughed as Tyson turned to give Annabeth a smothering hug. For a while now, Tyson had been living with the rest of the gods' Cyclops allies in Poseidon's underwater kingdom. When the gods disappeared at the start of the war, things down there had gotten difficult without Poseidon and Amphitrite—even Triton, their immortal son—to lead them, and Tyson and the others were doing their best to keep order in the seas. The Cyclops forges still supplied Camp Half-Blood with materials and equipment, and contact lines between the camp and the forge were always open. But visits were few and far between. Percy knew his brother was always busy, so seeing him every once in a while was something he looked forward to. Even if he wouldn't be able to stay long.

"How's everything down below?" Percy asked.

"Hard," Tyson answered, shaking his head sadly. "Everybody wants to know where Daddy is, why he left us. I tell them, 'Daddy has a reason. Trust him.' But do they listen? No. War makes people crazy."

"You can say that again," Percy agreed with a sigh. "Just hang in there, big guy. We're working on a way to get the gods back."

"Really?" Tyson said, seeming to perk up. "I knew brother would help! You will save us!"

Unexpectedly, Percy thought of their last prophecy, of the line he knew was meant for him or his brother: _Son of the Storm-bringer, doomed to fail_. A heavy shadow seemed to settle over him at the thought and he tried to keep his smile from fading. He must not have completely succeeded, though, because Annabeth reached over and gently touched his hand, smiling when he looked toward her. Was she reading his mind, like she sometimes seemed to be able to do? Either way, he felt the dark weight lift a little and he gave her a weak smile; she was the only one who always had that effect on him.

"Is… Ella here?" Tyson asked, touching his fingers together and shuffling his feet a bit awkwardly.

Annabeth looked like she was trying not to smile when she pointed over her shoulder and answered, "She's probably with Rachel. Hardly ever leaves her bedside." As Tyson nodded and started toward the back of the tent, Percy decided to follow him. Annabeth hopped down from her bed and went along as they all pushed through the bustle of people.

"Hello, Ella," Tyson greeted the crimson harpy, who was perched on a chair beside the bed on which Rachel Dare lay sleeping.

"Tyson," Ella said, looking up and blinking as though waking from a dream. "Tyson is back. Ella is happy." She smiled shyly and shifted on her chair, momentarily hiding her head beneath a wing.

As Tyson blushed and moved to stand by the harpy, Percy and Annabeth stepped up to the other side of Rachel's bed, looking down at her. Rachel had always been one of the liveliest people Percy had known. All of his memories of her showed her smiling, laughing, yelling, glaring—being expressive, no matter what emotion that entailed. It was strange to see her so quiet and still, trapped in a sort of coma and frowning in her sleep as though in pain. He wished there were something they could do to help her, but according to the healers, they were out of ideas.

"I hate seeing her like this," Annabeth whispered, as though she were sharing Percy's thoughts. "We have to beat Erebos. It might be the only way to save her."

"I know," Percy agreed. He reached out and touched Rachel's arm, flinching at the coldness of her skin. He had to focus on her breathing to convince himself she was still alive, though it didn't do much to quell the worry. He was reminded sickeningly of the last Oracle host—a decades-old mummy that had lived in the dusty attic of the Big House. He tried not to compare Rachel to her undead predecessor, but her current condition certainly wasn't helping matters.

As Percy retracted his hand, Rachel's eyes suddenly snapped open and her arm shot out, fingers closing around his wrist in an iron, vice-like grip. He staggered as his heart almost stopped in surprise and Annabeth gasped. He tried reflexively to wrench his arm from the girl's grasp, but her hold was like a welded shackle. She lifted her head and looked right at Percy, her eyes glowing solid green—just like when the Oracle possessed her to give a prophecy. When she opened her mouth, thin wisps of emerald smoke brushed out from between her lips.

"_Ocean's son_," she said in a hoarse, raspy voice that sounded like twenty people talking at once, "_of this I warn: in you, I see a darkness born_."

"What's going on?" a voice asked urgently as Will Solace suddenly appeared on Annabeth's other side.

No one answered. Percy was staring at Rachel—at the Oracle—with wide eyes, her impossibly firm grip on his wrist sending thin spikes of pain up his forearm. It was like the coldness of her skin had frozen him in place; he didn't think he could have moved if he'd tried.

"_The blood-stained bond your light must break_," Rachel went on in that same horrible voice, dead eyes burning into Percy's. "_A death through death the sun to wake_."

Then her grip vanished, her eyes closed, and her head fell back as though she'd never stirred at all.

* * *

**My, oh, my! What could this mean? Nothing good, as I'm sure you can guess. But we all know more danger equals more fun, so why stop now? Bring on the drama!**

**So get speculating, drop me a review, and I'll see you guys sometime next week! Later days!**

**-oMM**


	15. XV Percy

**Hey, gang! Guess what? I finally got over the block I was having on the next chapter set! And now that Chapters 16-18 are done, I feel much better about this and am ready to get back to a more regular schedule. About time, right? Still, when you consider how years ago it used to take me months to write a single chapter, you have to admit I'm still doing pretty darn well.**

**Anyway, thanks as usual to everybody who reviewed last chapter! Glad you're all like me and agree that more added drama equals more added fun! So have a bit of fluff as an apology for my slow updates, and I promise I'll be back early next week with another new chapter :D**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**XV  
PERCY**

Everyone around was in shock. Percy blinked a few times, realizing he was breathing too fast and trying to calm his nerves.

"What… just happened?" someone asked, and Percy became vaguely aware that a host of other people had gathered at the Oracle's sudden movement. And almost all of them were staring at him like he'd just grown a snake for a tail.

"Was that a prophecy?" Will said in disbelief. He was one of the few people who weren't looking at Percy, because his eyes were trained on Rachel's sleeping form.

"I don't…" Annabeth muttered weakly. Then she cleared her throat and said more surely, "I don't think so. Not exactly, anyway."

"What do you mean?" Percy asked her, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

"Well, think about it," she replied. Her voice was steady and firm, but her expression was still one of surprise and fear. "Have you ever heard the Oracle say the word 'I' in a prophecy? Plus, the wording was off. She said… 'light _must_ break', instead of 'light _will_ break'. I don't think this was a prophecy. I think… I think it was a warning." Her eyes lifted to meet Percy's and her brow furrowed in an expression of worry. "A warning for you."

"Well, whatever it is, it can't be good," a Roman healer spoke up. "What was that last bit? 'A death through death'. We've kept everyone alive so far, and now we've got, what, two deaths on our hands?"

"Two deaths," Ella repeated in a whispery voice, rocking back and forth on her chair. "The Black Death. Reduced Europe's population by thirty to sixty percent. One hundred thousand deaths. Two deaths. Too many."

Percy had to agree. Two deaths _were_ too many.

"Well, whatever it was," Will said as he pushed forward and began to check Rachel's vitals, "she must have been determined to get it out. Any longer and it might've killed her."

"She'll be okay, right?" someone else asked.

"I think so. Her heart rate's slowing back to normal."

As everyone started discussing the warning at the same time, Percy suddenly decided he wanted to be anywhere else but there. Why did these things always happen to him? Why was he the target of every prophecy and every bad omen the Oracle warned about? What made him so special, anyway? And why did everybody feel the need to talk about it like he wasn't even there—to hash it out and speculate all the horrible things it could mean? And why did everybody seem to be talking about him _dying?_

Without a word, Percy spun around and shoved his way through the throng of people, putting as much distance between himself and Rachel as he could. Already he could feel a shadowy frustration boiling inside him, and all he wanted to do was get out and be alone. He didn't want to think about the prophecy, and he didn't want to think about the Oracle's interest in him. None of it mattered. He wasn't going to let anything distract him, not now when they were getting closer to an advantage in the war.

But the problem was that no matter how much he didn't want this to be a distraction, he couldn't stop it. The Oracle's words just now hadn't exactly predicted sunshine and rainbows. _'A darkness born', 'the blood-stained bond', 'a death through death'._ Absolutely none of that sounded good. The entire verse played over and over in his head on a morbid repeat, reminding him that no matter how hard he tried to make everything work out, his life was constantly doomed anyway.

Once outside, Percy walked around the side of the infirmary tent and slowed to a stop in the shadow it cast on the grass, taking a deep breath and staring hard at the ground. He heard someone approach him from behind and knew immediately who it was.

"I'm sorry," Annabeth said quietly. "I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that. I was just… surprised and worried and… I spoke without thinking." Her hand gently touched his shoulder and he felt the tension seep from his muscles like a switch had been flicked.

"No, it's okay," Percy argued with a deep sigh, turning to face her. "You were right. She was speaking right to me, after all—'Ocean's son' and all that." He sat down heavily on the ground, pulling a clump of grass from the dirt as Annabeth lowered herself down beside him.

"What do you think she meant," she said after a long minute "when she said 'in you, I see a darkness born'?"

Thinking about it made Percy remember the strangely hopeless feeling that had been trying to worm its way through him lately. A number of times, he'd compared it to a shadow, taking root in his gut and spreading like a virus to his heart. He got angry easier, lost his will more quickly. It didn't usually last long, and before now he'd attributed it to the Shadow War. After all, it wasn't abnormal for war to have a negative effect on a person's spirit. But what if it was more than that? What if he'd somehow been infected by this darkness—if it was growing inside him like a disease? What if the Oracle could see it, and was trying to warn him before something terrible happened?

"I don't know," he finally said aloud, fighting to get the words out. Part of him wanted to tell Annabeth the truth, but talking about it wouldn't be easy. Plus, the last thing he wanted to do was worry her. Forcing a bit of humor into his voice, he added, "I'm more worried about the 'death through death' thing. Now I'm supposed to fail _and_ die? So much for my 'happily ever after'."

"You're _not_ going to die," Annabeth said firmly. She gripped his left hand in her right and used her other to turn his head toward her, looking him in the eyes. "And if you do, I'll march straight to the Underworld and drag you back myself. Hades can't have you. I'm not done with you yet."

Percy laughed, feeling a huge chunk of his apprehension dissipate and fade. "When you say it like that, I think I might prefer the mercy of the Lord of the Dead."

Her eyebrows shot up and she leaned back a few inches, letting go of his hand and folding her arms. "Oh, really?" she replied indignantly, though he could tell she wasn't serious. "Well, in that case, fine. I was going to kiss you, but if you'd rather wake up Hades and lock lips with him, then be my—"

As though attempting to prove her wrong, he slid a hand under her jaw and leaned forward, fighting a smile as he pressed his lips to hers. She responded at once, leaning into him and raising a hand to loosely touch the front of his shirt. He waited a while before pulling back, all worry and fear momentarily gone from his mind and replaced by a numbing sort of elation.

"You always know what to say to cheer me up," he told her with a light smirk, and even though his voice was wry he meant what he was saying.

Judging by Annabeth's smile, she knew that. "I can read your mind, remember?" she said, a tiny, mischievous glint in her eyes that she seemed to reserve only for him.

As her hands slid up his chest and around his neck, he swallowed hard and asked, "Yeah? What am I thinking now?"

"Same thing as me," she answered, before guiding his mouth back to hers. She pulled him closer to her and tilted herself back until she was lying on the grass with him leaning over her. One of his hands pushed the loose hair from her face while the other held him upright and both of hers tightened in the fabric of his shirt over his chest. Unfortunately, she unknowingly poked hard at the bruises formed by the chimera's hooves, and he broke the kiss to let out a sharp hiss of pain.

"What's wrong?" Annabeth asked, eyebrows knitting together as her eyes lowered to survey Percy's body for visible wounds.

"Nothing," he insisted, rubbing his chest with the hand that wasn't keeping him from falling on his girlfriend. "Got kicked by a chimera. Freakin' goat hooves hurt like heck."

"A chimera?" she repeated in surprise, pushing herself up on her elbows and forcing him to shift sideways next to her. "You fought a chimera? How?"

"Very carefully."

"And you killed it?" She raised her eyebrows and he nodded with a half-shrug. Then she shook her head, sighed, and said, "I have the world's most skilled idiot for a boyfriend."

"Hey," he said uncertainly, unsure whether or not to be offended.

She gave a light, exasperated sort of laugh at the look on his face and reached out to grip his collar. She pulled him toward her and the instant their lips touched a nearby voice called out, "Percy! Annabeth! You guys out… here…" The voice trailed off. Backing reluctantly away from Annabeth, Percy sighed shortly and looked up to see a blonde girl a year or two younger than him from the Aphrodite cabin—Lacy, he was pretty sure her name was—standing at the corner of the tent. She was watching them with her mouth slightly open and an apologetic look on her face.

"Oh, um," she said lamely, "sorry. I didn't mean to… interrupt. It's just… someone told Chiron about that thing with Rachel, and now he wants to see you. But, I mean, take your time. Really. It's nowhere near as important." She flashed them a bright smile and waved, then turned and hurried around the bend, leaving them alone.

"Great," Percy grumbled, sitting back. Just what he wanted, more talking about his promising future.

"Hey," Annabeth said gently, her fingers reaching out to brush his arm. "We're gonna figure this out, okay? Together, like we always do. We'll get through this."

He looked into her calm, gray eyes and a smile appeared unbidden on his face. "Yeah," he agreed, actually starting to believe it. "I know."

* * *

**Yes, short and hardly worth the wait. Sorry about that. But hey, at least I'm past my mental wall and my typing fingers are on the move again. That's something to look forward to, I'd say.**

**How 'bout some reviews? Just want to yell at me? Express your unbridled joy that I'm back in action? Either way, bring it on! See you all again soon!**

**Later days!**

**-oMM**


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